


Love Me Dead

by StarryIllusions (StrawberrySweetYume)



Series: Corpse Bride AU [1]
Category: Corpse Bride (2005), Gravity Falls
Genre: Corpse Bride AU, Demon Tad Strange, F/F, M/M, Multi, Other, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 88,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberrySweetYume/pseuds/StarryIllusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has always been a grey place, but Dipper had learnt to love it as it was. Somewhere along the way he had also fallen in love with the golds and reds that the stained glass in the shape of a triangle that looked upon his room cast. However, with a marriage coming up his world seems as if it'll just become monotonous greys and long drawn high society meetings. Mabel seemed to think the girl was beautiful, that he was lucky, he just thought it would be a horrible experience he had no choice in.</p><p>At least it would have if the wedding rehearsal hadn't been a disaster and his safe place in the woods hadn't suddenly been invaded by a creature of the night intent to drag him to the underworld...literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything must be Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Corpse Bride AU BillDip](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/162791) by Billciphering. 



Beautiful. 

The word made itself known into his mind as soon as his eyes fell upon golden brushes of colour falling down, slowly seeming to glide down in front of his eyes like dripping honey. Among the gold he could spot lighter shades and the ochre of skin combined with the blue of the clear and unnerving ocean during autumn. The girl in front of him turned around, making the chair she sat upon squeak softly and her curls bounce all around her as curiosity lit her chocolate eyes. Dipper always thought his sister’s eyes were lighter than his, more of a hazel than a dark brown if one willed. They were full of light and happiness, always a glimmer of creativity and curiosity he never understood, however hard he tried to grasp it. Recognition spread across her features and she grinned widely at him, but Dipper was barely paying attention as he looked slightly past her. 

“Woah…”

It was the single word he managed out and the next thing his sister was practically glowing with happiness as she got up from her chair in front of the beautiful canvas she had painted. It was a spot of imagination in a grim world, a butterfly with wings of pink candy, blue and ochre creating the decorations it held and golden paint surrounding it as if the light was slowly draining from its being. Dipper would have mentioned that but he knew it would be taken the wrong way, Mabel no doubt intended the gold to be a symbol of happiness and had no intention of keeping to reality. In her imagination that butterfly would have been able to hide wherever it wished and would have not been disturbed. And despite its complete inaccuracy to reality, it was a piece of art one could not contest. Even if they could have, no one would have denied his sister’s happy smile as she stood proudly near her canvas. It was filled with colour and took one’s eyes away, completely captivating the viewer and distracting from the world around it. It wasn’t hard actually. Mabel herself was a spot of colour in the world with her bright dresses and show costumes, always something different from the last and, more often than not, bearing a spot of paint or glue somewhere along it. This particular room held almost as much color as Mabel did, being decorated with ribbons, materials, yarn, paints of all colours and the occasional painting or sketch on the wall. More often than not one would think they had entered a different dimension just by stepping inside, the stark contrast between the hall and the room being startling to the senses…as was the mess. 

“Do you like it!?” She asked expectantly, grin widening as she watched her twin for his reaction, already seeming to anticipate the praise she’d receive. 

Dipper snapped himself out of his little astonished haze to try and find the words to describe his thoughts. It would not be anything new to Mabel but she loved praise all the same. However, as soon as his eyes seemed to finally move themselves from the painting he noticed colour, but not the ones usual to the room. Paint. All over…That snapped him back to reality. “Mabel, you know Grunkle Stan told us not to get ourselves dirty! We are meeting with the Northwests today.” He told the girl who instantly seemed to deflate at the scolding, a pout taking over her earlier grin.

“But Dipper!” She said, voice whining but nowhere near even seeming remorseful. “Inspiration struck! You can’t just let inspiration leave you like that!” she reasoned, placing her hands on her hips which only seemed to spread more paint – was that red? There wasn’t even any red on the canvas! – on her dress for the day, a beautiful piece Grunkle Stan had bought for her. The male part of the duo wondered if perhaps she had done it intentionally because great uncle Ford had been pretty strict on her needing to wear something…appropriate. A devilish grin, matching the paint she had just spread across her hips and the flourish in her dress, tugged at her lips. “And I can see I’m not the only one who is ‘dirty’ here, bro-bro!” To emphasize, she brought her finger up to point to the book in Dipper’s hands. 

The boy had almost forgotten he was holding his sketch book and when he looked down he could see the coal marks on his hands along with a few ink stains. In his quick descent to find great uncle Ford and show the man how he had managed to capture the appearance of one of the stranger creatures he had seen recently in the forest, he had not noticed that perhaps his cleaning earlier had not been too thorough. His already pale skin seemed to get whiter as he noticed he had gotten some onto his suit. 

Grunkle Stan would kill them both. 

Speaking of the Devil…

“What did I tell you two kids about today!?” his voice boomed and Dipper jumped with a small start as he realized the man was right behind him, a few pages seeming to want to break free from his sketchbook. He barely caught the flying papers, brown eyes trying not to leave the man which was now in front of him as if he’d spit fire anytime soon now. How he had gotten there while he had averted his eyes for only a moment was beyond Dipper, but he had other things to worry about now as the man looked them over critically. Stanley pinched the bridge of his nose in pure frustration as he caught sight of Mabel’s ruined dress and Dipper’s stained suit. Poor man just couldn’t get a break. He loved both of them dearly but sometimes they were a lot more to handle than he had originally bargained for. “Mabel, sweetie,” he started, voice soothing but laced with tiredness as he looked at the Pines maiden with her dishevelled curls and paint all over her new dress and even in her hair. “You know you should not dress in your good clothes when painting.” He chastised but it came off more as an exhausted statement. 

Mabel put on her best pout. “But Grunkle Stan,” she began, bringing her hands up in a grand gesture of defence as she got ready to justify her case. “Inspiration struck and look!” she gestured grandly to her butterfly painting with light in her eyes. “Isn’t it beautiful!?” Not even Grunkle Stan could deny that. It wasn’t the beauty of the painting that did it for him though, but Mabel’s unmatched charm. Stan’s eyes seemed to soften as he looked at her, sighing. Then he turned his gaze to Dipper and it once again hardened, making the boy sit up straighter, preparing himself for whatever was coming. Grunkle Stan would never hurt either of them but he could look very scary every once in a while when he wanted to impose himself. 

“And what were you doing!? I can understand your sister here, but you’re supposed to be getting married today!” he said, voice raising to surprising volumes in its harshness. Somewhere behind Dipper, Mabel bit her lip. 

Dipper gulped. 

“W-well, I thought I’d draw a bit. To settle my nerves.” He tried to clear up, a small one shouldered shrug serving as his only gesture. A paper took it as a door of escape and Dipper fumbled to catch it and put it back in its place before it had the chance to float to some random spot of paint on the ground that would ruin it beyond repair.

The answer served to draw amusement from the older man who didn’t even notice the paper that now bore a few coal marks of its own on the edges. “Hah! Kid, you’re getting married to a Northwest! What more could you want? There’s nothing to be worried about!” he assured, seeming very sure of himself.

Dipper wasn’t.

This was a woman he did not know, someone he had never met, someone he did not want to meet. He didn’t want to get married but it wasn’t his choice. He had gotten off of the hook by waiting until both he and Mabel were twenty-one so Mabel could own her own property and do as she wished, while Dipper got some of his life in order but there was no going around it now. “Technically, it’s just the rehearsal for the actual wedding.” He protested weakly as if that would have any weight in the conversation. Stan didn’t even seem to hear him as he grasped his shoulder and pushed him out of the colourful chamber that served as his sister’s art room. The man had a grip on him that always took Dipper by surprise. After having lived with him and great uncle Ford it wasn’t as if Dipper didn’t have some strength of his own but it still surprised him how strong Stan was when he wanted to be. 

“Yeah, yeah, rehearsal, wedding, close enough.” Dipper really wanted to ground out to his grunkle that it wasn’t in any way the same thing but Stan didn’t seem willing to listen. The man was already dressed in his suit and looked ready to leave for the mansion. No doubt he had done so early so he could make sure they were ready as well. “Go change.” He gave him a little push to emphasize his point, then turned his gaze to Dipper’s twin. “You too, sweetie, go find a nice dress. Something uh,” What was that word again? “Fancy. You know, the type that all those ladies wear to the opera or whatever.” Stan was never one for women’s fashion but he actually knew his fair share if only to be able to spoil his grandniece. 

And so, both twins started on their way, Dipper with a resigned “Yes, grunkle Stan.” And Mabel by giving a kiss to the man’s cheek before she skipped off to her own room, leaving behind a thin trail of paint and almost tripping in a few ribbons that had gotten tangled between her feet as she hurried down a set of stairs. Dipper’s steps were swifter as he took the stairs to retreat to his room at the upper floor. 

Some of the stairs creaked under Dipper’s weight with familiarity as the brunet made it to the door. He pushed the knob down and let himself in, the creak of the door welcoming him inside and closing behind him with a loud click. It was a simple room and Dipper had lived in it ever since they had moved in with their Grunkles. Their parents had unfortunately died of some disease or another, but Dipper couldn’t remember them well, nor could he remember how the sickness had affected them. They had come one summer to visit their Grunkles and then, not even a year later, they were taken away from their parents in fear that they’d catch the virus as well. It was exactly seventeen days after they had moved that their parents died. Dipper remembered counting the days as if that would somehow tell him what would happen or when the next disaster would come, how everything would go from there, but seventeen was just a number and he and Mabel were just children at the time. 

Great uncle Ford had taken him under his wing at the earliest possibility and had gotten both him and Mabel whatever possessions they could from their old home with Stan’s help. They lived in a weird town which was more grey than anything else and which Mabel had taken to colouring with everything and anything she found. Dipper instead loved the way it was, it had fit with his glum mood at the time and slowly melted into familiarity along with many other things like the creaks of the stairs, the supernatural creatures Stanford wrote about and researched, his Grunkle Stanley’s moneymaking schemes at the Mystery Shack – a construction attached to their actual home – and the triangle imagery Dipper would find around both the Shack and the house. Strangely, Ford never got close to them but Stan had told both of them they had originally been Ford’s idea, related to some old love interest. Dipper couldn’t quite make out what triangles had to do with love but he soon found comfort in the ominous symbols. 

Even now, as he entered his room, he found it dyed in red and gold. The light outside was cold and the air probably not far behind but when it hit the stained glass hovering over his desk it turned warm and easy on the eyes whatever the time of day. It usually gave Dipper a feeling of comfort but just seemed to stir up nostalgia now as he stepped towards his desk and placed his sketchbook down. He reached for where he would have found a pen and then a handkerchief but his hand found nothing. He looked up and was not surprised to find nothing, just disappointed. The room had been stripped bare as far as he was concerned. All of his books on the supernatural, his research, all of the novels he had collected had been taken into boxes and packed up to be placed in some other room, replaced by what his grunkle Stan thought were more…appropriate books. Dipper had never read any of them and found the titles downright ridiculous along with the contents even if he had just skimmed them. He didn’t need to skim them to know he wouldn’t like them. His little specimens and random souvenirs from adventures in the forest or with his great uncle Ford had also been moved on the basis that they were ‘scary’ or ‘disgusting’ or that ‘no girl wants to see that Dipper, you’ll scare her away!’ hence leaving a huge empty space in his drawers and shelves. They left his art supplies, but somehow scattered them about and now Dipper had no idea where half of them even were. Most of his concerns were just pushed aside or not acknowledged though because everyone was planning this blasted wedding. Dipper just wanted it over with, or, more so, he didn’t want it to happen. 

He was nervous, he felt sweaty, he felt furious that he had to change his room for this prissy little princess he did not even know! It wasn’t as if she’d want to inspect his room or anything but even Dipper knew that was a stupid thought. Logically, no she wouldn’t want to. Reality was that Mabel would probably want to take her through all of the house and the Shack when she came over and they could not have her thinking bad of Dipper if they went by his room. Personally, Dipper would have preferred using a lock and having that be it! Not that it would help for long. Maybe for a bit before the wedding but after? He’d have to give them all up again, every little thing, he’d have to give them up because he’d have to settle down and he doubted some rich girl would like anything that he did. The whole thought of it made him want to crawl in a hole and just die, this wedding wasn’t going to mark a celebration, it was going to mark the end of the life he liked and leave him with only drawing and writing as outlets, it was going to be a prison more than anything his family considered to be ‘healthy social interaction’ and ‘making a life for himself’. It wasn’t a blessing filled with white doves and love like Mabel explained it, it wasn’t a good deal like Stan made it out to be or a healthy relationship like Ford seemed to think, it was worse than being killed because he had to live through it. At least if he died he would be able to see what happened after. Most theories about life after death sounded good to him right then…

No, he couldn’t do that. 

He couldn’t leave Mabel alone and, as much as he hated their decisions, his Grunkles would miss him…plus he didn’t trust either of them to have enough good sense more often than not. For all their good points both of them seemed a bit out of touch with reality every so often and Dipper feared leaving them alone without checking on them every so often. 

Wiping his hands on his coat, Dipper took it off and got another one from his wardrobe once his hands were clean. He left the coat on the ground in some corner -he’d deal with the mess later. Taking a look in the mirror he decided it was good enough. Not much he could do about it. He was wearing a suit, he had gotten as much rest as he could – which wasn’t much in truth – and they’d just have to deal with the fact that his hair was not going to change or ‘be arranged’. They always hated it and Dipper didn’t think it the best part of him either but he’d prefer it long and a bit messy just as long as it covered his forehead. 

“Dipper! Come downstairs when you’re ready!” 

The brown haired boy sighed. That had been Mabel, judging by the voice. He brushed a hand over his hair again to make sure it covered his birthmark and made his way back to his desk, closing the small window opened on the side, fingers brushing over the cold surface. They had taken a lot from the room and changed it but they couldn’t get to change the window in time, nor did he want them to. If this girl came and saw it, Dipper was sure she’d be freaked out by it alone. Somehow, that made him feel a bit smug despite the unpleasant feelings coiling in his stomach. Without hurry he took the files from his sketchbook and arranged them as they were before getting messed up by him constantly dropping them. He stopped just a bit longer to look at the last one he had made, the picture of a gremlobin he had encountered briefly about a fortnight ago. 

It was no butterfly, it had no wings or antennas, the colours were missing and it was instead done in the greys and blacks of coal and ink, any beauty seemed to have bled off of the drawing, scared by the creature in it, and Dipper wondered what he had seen in it. He had been so proud of it just a moment ago, he had felt so happy about how realistic it looked and about how he had impregnated the paper with the creature’s fearsome aura, he had been so excited to show it to his great uncle Ford…and then he had stopped by Mabel’s room and his eyes had been blinded by colour and sweet golden paint. He had stopped by her room and realized that what he had was a feeble drawing of some creature while Mabel had just made art one would have stared at for hours simply because they liked it, not because they were scared of it. He had stopped by her room and all of his confidence and excitement had suddenly seemed like the flimsy emotions of a child who had managed to spell his name for the very first time and hadn’t even done it right. Great uncle Ford already knew what a gremlobin looked like, he didn’t need another drawing of something he already knew. Dipper should have known this, the man always looked bored when someone brought up something he knew, however polite he might have been. 

“Dipper!”

The yell startled him out of his thoughts and Dipper turned towards the closed door. “Coming!” he yelled back. The door creaked open and closed with a loud click, blocking him from the warmth the triangle shaped stained glass brought and putting something between him and his drawings, between him and whatever had remained of the things he loved. 

He smiled to his sister who was waiting downstairs and, after spending ten minutes just getting the many frills of his sister’s dress in the carriage, they were finally off. 

It was fine.

As long as he concentrated on what was going on and didn’t think of the rest it would be fine. 

There was nothing to worry about. 

After all, what was the use of worry for something you could not change? 

He’d soon be married…


	2. Harmony of Red and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper had always thought it was sweet when people were smitten with their other half but it was clear that would not be his case, though his sister surely seemed to disagree.
> 
> It was no surprise that he took the first chance he could to get out of the room where the adults were speaking of the wedding arrangements. He just hadn't expected to find a room that held a piece of his home in the manor.

“Now all you have to do is reel her in!” Stanley proclaimed, looking very enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, as he gave his grandnephew an encouraging look. Shame he seemed to completely overlook the male’s mood. Then again, perhaps he was just refusing to acknowledge it, after all this was a grand occasion in Stanley’s mind. 

At the moment Dipper wanted nothing more than for the Earth to swallow him whole. He didn’t ask for much, he just wanted the carriage ride to be a quiet one where he could sulk and look however glum he wished for a few short moments but that was not a luxury he could afford with his family there, two of which were very excited and very talkative to boot. He had to hold back a sigh. He should have known from the moment they got in the carriage that it was not going to be a quiet ride. How could it when all of his family was looking forward to this? When all of them couldn’t wait for him to get married, albeit everyone for different reasons? He knew Mabel just couldn’t contain her excitement at the prospect of a sister-in-law, another girl in their tightknit family. The Pines maiden had many friends and was liked by even more people, her cheerfulness and colourful personality attracting everyone to her side sooner or later but family wise she was the only girl. No doubt she loved them dearly but she got bored of being only around boys after a while, it was one of the reasons as to why she often spent her time with Candy and Grenda or, sometimes, with Wendy. Having a sister-in-law would be a welcome change for her – and probably a nightmare for Dipper as soon as she got to telling stories from when they were children to the poor woman. 

Ford’s reasons seemed a bit…unclear. Dipper couldn’t quite make them out, he simply couldn’t understand them. It was true he rarely understood the man fully or grasped everything that went through his mind but this just seemed more peculiar than usual. It was even stranger how Ford of all people had been the one to suggest moving his books on the supernatural away from his room along with all of his work. Yes, Stanley and Mabel had been the ones to do it and fully throw themselves into the task, but the suggestion had come from Ford, however subtle it might have been. Dipper had noticed, even if he had not said anything and, to a certain degree, he held a grudge against Ford and all of his family members for it – one that was unlikely to fade away anytime soon. He still loved them all dearly but right then he also somewhat hated them. It only seemed to rub salt in his wounds when they said that it was for his own good, that it would be healthy, that it wasn’t natural for him to stay cooped up all day studying or going after the supernatural. 

He had expected Stanford to back him up, to reason with Stanley and Mabel on his behalf, but what was he to do when the man he had expected to support him did the opposite? The match had been made a while ago and ever since then Stanford had been going on about how good this was for him, how he should settle down with a family and how it would give him ‘perspective’. Dipper had been inclined numerous times to snap at him and ask what more perspective could he get after having dealt with the supernatural since he was 12 years old, but with how things were going he just risked getting another lecture on the workings of society. If anything, they’d probably add how uninvolved he had been with ‘real life’ and how so few people even knew who he was while everyone seemed to know everyone else in the family. Well, that couldn’t be helped, could it? It wasn’t exactly easy to match up to a well-known researcher of the supernatural who was also a writer, a conman who had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand whatever he did and a girl that was the impersonation of a rainbow from a fairy-tale, practically radiated pixie dust and had ribbons trailing after her almost all the time. 

However, it was probably Stanley who had the best reason, logically speaking. The arrangement wasn’t about the money or about getting some big house, it wasn’t even about getting his grandnephew to finally marry – though for all of the ignorant front he put he had actually really looked into the girl and spoken to her before even considering the match. Stanley was looking forward to it because the arrangement would guarantee them something that could not be achieved any other way: status. 

Money was something anyone could get with the right means but status could not be as easily acquired. As it so happened, the Pines family had been a very poor one with barely enough to eat when their Grunkles were young. Sometimes one of them would tell them how it had been when they were children, their expressions shifting between sweet indulgence and happiness on one side to seriousness and grimness on the other. The two had not grown up in the best of conditions but they had done the best they could have. Dipper actually hated hearing about it, not for the poverty they described or for the condition society had been in when he and Mabel weren’t even conceived but for the part where the story split and he couldn’t find the same things he found in Ford’s story in Stan’s own. For the part where everything became different and both Grunkles didn’t see eye to eye anymore, for that part in the story where both their expressions turned grim and sour and full of regret even after all these years. Stan and Ford’s father, Filbrick, had not been a kind person and food was short so he took the most ‘logical’ solution and, in Dipper’s opinion, the cruellest: he threw Stanley out. Dipper didn’t know the extent of the situation as neither went into detail but he had grasped that there had been interdictions keeping them from seeing each other as well.

They had drifted apart horribly during that time. Whenever their family told that part or made allusions to it both Mabel and Dipper would tense with nerves made on pure imagination at the thought of having to be separated for such a long period of time. It wasn’t as if the two of them were always in each other’s presence. Most of the time they did not even attend the same events unless needed and both indulged in different sorts of hobbies and readings, in the end they had very little in common. Perhaps if fate had been different there would have been nothing that would have glued them together but as it was they were very close and had an extensive array of inside jokes, they had made memories together and forged a basis of trust and silliness for their relationship as siblings ever since they could remember. There was not much in common to be found in their preferences but there were affectionate gazes and caring gestures to be found in everything they did for each other. When they thought of being separated it wasn’t being put in different houses or being on a trip away for a while that made their skin crawl, it was being unable to talk to the other, unable to trust the other or find them whenever they needed help. It was the feeling that they could not go at the craziest hour of the night to find their twin if they had had a nightmare. It was the feeling of there not being a safety blanket near them or someone to have their back if they were ever to be in danger, whether for something minor like being made fun of or something big like running away from a bunch of gnomes that looked ready to commit carnage unless you handed over their ‘Queen’. 

It had taken years for Stanley and Ford to even meet again after being separated and when they did Ford was half crazy. At least from what they had been told. Again, the details were blurred up and nothing was told to them directly but the gist of it was that Ford had been so implicated in his research with the supernatural that paranoia and stress had played a horrible number on him, even if he always seemed calm and in control these days. By that point Ford had been living alone while Stan was still living on the streets. Stan had helped Ford get back on his feet and opened the Mystery Shack with whatever he had found around at the time, something Ford had found utterly ridiculous but had let him go through with anyhow. This was the part of the story the twins liked because both brothers lit up as they spoke of their reunion, of making the Mystery Shack, of how Ford started getting published more and how his research started being recognized. 

It was lovely to see their smiles when they spoke of it. 

They were all currently living a very comfortable life. It wasn’t to say that they weren’t content with what they had as to say that it was frustrating to not be able to use what they had. Stanford may have considered society amazing and loved its inner workings as he would one of his supernatural experiments but even he had to agree with Stanley when he let out his frustrations every so often. Being from a poor family meant less rights, it meant that they could not get their hands on things nobles could or partake in events high class people could attend because they lacked the birth right. They could have had all of the money in the world but would still have been refused a large number of things. Admittedly, their Grunkle Stanley somehow found ways around some of the restrictions of society, most of them illegal, but it wasn’t the same thing and Stanford rarely approved. Actually, he never approved except for the rare occasion when he completely ignored the illegal act because he needed the object for his research – or simply forgot in his excitement once he saw what Stanley had brought him. 

However, with this marriage their family would be gaining status by alliance. They would no longer be part of the commons but part of the nobles. Mabel would be able to attend all of the socials she wished, Ford would be able to get proper recognition for his pieces and Stanley…Dipper wasn’t sure about his exact plans but he was certain the man wanted to flaunt his new position at the first social event he got the chance to attend, if only to rub it into everyone else’s face. 

Frankly, Dipper was the only one dreading this whole ordeal. 

“That’s right, Dipper! The marriage is arranged but you should still try to get in her good graces!” Mabel piped in as well, grinning widely. “You better turn up the charm, bro bro!” she encouraged and playfully elbowed him, getting her curls ruffled affectionately by their Grunkle Stan not even a moment later.

Dipper clenched his jaw and mentally chastised himself for wishfully thinking of a quiet carriage ride because now this seemed ten times worse than what he had originally imagined. Then again maybe it was because he had barely gotten enough sleep the night before. “I’m already reeling, Grunkle Stan.” He ground out as an answer to the man’s first statement. Oh, he was reeling alright, but with a headache and certainly not with charm. He just wanted to let his head fall on the side of the carriage, close his eyes and ignore the world for the few minutes of relative freedom he had thought he had but it seemed that his freedom had been cut short the moment he had stepped out of his bedroom door and left the warm reds and golden rays for the grey and blanched blue of the sky outside. Instead of slumping on himself and using the door as support, Dipper tried his best not to seem too conspicuous as he tried to rub some of the tiredness from his eyes. He kept his back straight, his left hand on his lap and his eyes in front of him to look at his family…he got the feeling that if he didn’t Ford would have been disappointed with him. He had always been able to bend some of the rules with Stanley but Ford simply held too much authority and had too much of Dipper’s respect for him to risk crossing him or disappointing him in any way.

He wasn’t sure the man actually knew that…

“How come they agreed to it though?” That seemed to stop Stanley from whatever joke he was making with Mabel, his gaze settling on the younger of the twins. Even Ford gave him a curious look and he suddenly felt embarrassed for even asking. “I mean, as a noble, shouldn’t she be marrying a lord? Or someone of a higher station? Isn’t it a bit strange that she’d agree to this match?” 

Had Stan had a newspaper with him he might just have wacked him with it. 

“Quit your yapping kid! They agreed and that’s that.” Stanley even looked somewhat offended that Dipper would question his skills in making a marriage pact – though Ford had also been there when it had taken place. “We’re just as good as any Northwest!” he said stubbornly, sticking his nose in the air in an action that would have almost been comical if he didn’t seem so upset. The Northwests were a rich and ancient noble family though and the Pines were originally poor and had only gotten out of said poverty through Stanley and Stanford. No one was doubting their resolution or abilities, but when looking at the facts even a street rat would have said the Northwests were better on the social scale and, probably, on any other scale. “Actually, we’re even better! And soon enough the world will know it too!” It was a loud and bold proclamation…if anything, Stanley managed to strengthen Dipper’s resolution to keep an eye on him and made his nerves worse rather than soothe them. He felt as if, perhaps, he should try to bring his Grunkle back from his fantasy world or if not at least start making a plan so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself at the next social event they had to attend – which was most likely to be his wedding now that he thought about it, joy – but he got the feeling there was no talking to the conman when he was this set on his ‘goals’.

“I haven’t even spoken to her yet! You do realize that, right?” 

“Well, at least we have that in our favour!” Stan’s tone was condescending, almost verging on insulting. Really, it somehow made it worse when coupled with that look in his eyes.

Dipper quietly fumed through the embarrassment that statement brought while his sister giggled. 

“You’ll be fine, Dip Dop! I’m sure she’ll fine you utterly charming – if she can see your eyes through all that hair.” 

The brunet’s cheeks flared. “Mabel!” he chastised in good nature, causing the girl to go into another giggling fit. He knew it wasn’t with bad intent though, she was just teasing him, trying to get him to loosen up from his tense position…and somehow, it kind of worked. Not to say he didn’t wish she’d stop teasing him but the familiarity of the action brought some calm to his persona as the carriage swayed on its way to the Northwest manor. 

 

*****

 

The gates opened. 

It was a bit surreal to see them open up when the Northwests kept them closed at almost all times, not allowing anyone onto their property. Or, better said, not allowing anyone lower than their status to enter their mansion and, sometimes, not even those who were of their status, at least legally speaking. They were a very proud family and showed it. Even as the carriage brought them into the courtyard the Pines could see the beautifully arranged gardens around them, the domineering piece being the mansion itself. It had always looked big even from behind the gates but now it looked positively humongous and, frankly, quite intimidating. Dipper was probably the only one to think so though, Mabel and Stan looked positively enraptured with the scenery while Ford barely seemed to pay it any mind after quickly scanning it for anything interesting – he wasn’t going to find any specimens or poisonous plants there, just roses, flowers and more common plants, perhaps a few trees.

A valet opened the door for them and Dipper got out first, offering his hand to Mabel to help her down. Once his sister was safely down with her dark magenta dress and frills safely past the stair and the door of the carriage, their Grunkles followed through and started leading them to the double doors. Stanford rang the doorbell while Stanley arranged his suit, looking expectantly at the door. The male of the Mystery Twins duo bit the inside of his cheek and did his best not to draw blood. In a nervous gesture he made sure to flatten his bangs over his forehead again at which his sister rolled her eyes. “Stop that or you won’t be able to even see your bride to be!” She chastised and moved close to him to try and push some of his bangs away from his face. 

“Mabes!” The boy tried getting away but she kept him in place. No matter how she tried to move his bangs he simply flattened them back. Stanley looked about done with their banter when the door opened, a butler looking at the two men and the twins which were still very close, with Mabel holding onto Dipper’s suit. The girl gave the butler a nervous smile while Dipper pulled herself from her hold and flattened his bangs back into place. His smile was sheepish as the man signalled them to follow him inside. Once again their guardians went in beforehand, Stanley shooting the both of them a look, and they followed through but not before Dipper got to swiftly pull on his suit where it had gotten a bit crinkled and Mabel got to give him a displeased pout as they walked into the main hall. 

All signs of their earlier banter – and of happiness for that matter – seemed to disappear once they had made it into the grand hall. It was a beautiful place with decorations fit for nobles, marble floors and a rug going up the grand staircase in the middle. It was the type that took your breath away and echoed it back at you from all sides but it seemed to lack any kind of out actual colour. There were different colours, but they were all faded, blanched…everything was bleary and for all of its grandeur Dipper could not find anything interesting in it. Perhaps it had to do with the nerves coiling in his stomach as well though, but he doubted it. His grunkles seemed to love the place, Stanley especially. 

“I love what you’ve done with the place!” Stan declared once the greetings had been made and the Northwests smiled their usual smiles, bright, happy, too big for their faces and bearing an air so condescending Dipper could have cut it with a knife. No one seemed to speak of it, or even notice for that matter…

“Why, thank you.” The blonde woman answered, placing a hand over her heart in an exaggerated gesture of flattery. “We do have exquisite taste.” 

‘And no type of real courtesy, nor a dictionary with the word ‘humble’ in it.’ Dipper thought bitterly, but didn’t let his thoughts show on his face as he watched the exchange. 

“Allow us to introduce our daughter,” This time it was mister Northwest speaking. He gestured to the girl standing next to her mother. 

“Pacifica Northwest.” 

The girl made a polite curtsy, wearing a smile as fake as the magic book Stanley used for tricks at the Mystery Shack. Dipper was by far not the best in reading other people, that was Mabel’s department, but he considered himself talented at unravelling mysteries, telling lies apart and figuring out when something was amiss. This was all so fake that had he had a weak stomach he just might have felt the need to retch into the nearest potted plant – which just so happened to be almost as big as him. He had no idea how they had even gotten that monstrosity of a plant inside, it didn’t even look good. 

He couldn’t say the girl was ugly, she was…mediocre perhaps. Dipper didn’t find her appealing. Her hair was a light blonde, straight to a fault, with bangs covering her forehead neatly. Her eyes, which seemed too small to Dipper from where she was standing, were of a light crystal blue that he felt he might get cut in and she bore the aristocratic features of her parents, lips in a cupid’s arch, high cheekbones and a small nose to fit her heart shaped face. Comely enough but nothing that Dipper would spare a second glance at. 

“A pleasure to meet you.” 

Even her voice seemed to rather scratch at his ears. Somehow this girl had made the whole thing even less pleasant just by speaking. If she didn’t exist this whole thing wouldn’t have had to happen to begin with, but alas she existed and was to be his bride. Stanley gave Dipper a look and he realized it was his turn to speak. For a moment he couldn’t find his voice. He hid it quickly by clearing his throat, words of courteousness already memorized somewhere in the back of his mind behind all of his feelings towards the arrangement. “The pleasure is all mine. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Dipper Pines.” He said as politely as he could and found that his words came out firm and more confident than he would have expected. That was good. “And this is my sister, Mabel Pines…” his voice seemed to drift off at the end as he turned his gaze to his sister to realize she was gaping. She was gaping, eyes set on the Northwests. Dipper snapped out of his surprised state at his sister’s behaviour to realize that Stanley had not been looking at him earlier as a signal to continue the introductions but as a gesture that would hopefully attract Mabel’s attention without words. As he often did when he found himself in problematic situations, he acted on instinct and trusted his mind to come up with a solution as he reached for his sister. The girl seemed to be completely out of it. “Apologies, the grandeur here definitely leaves people open mouthed.” Or wanting to run for the hills, but that wouldn’t quite make for a good excuse. He pulled her closer by the arm and had her facing him. 

Thankfully, Stanford seemed to take the spotlight off of them. “For our discussion of the wedding arrangements, perhaps we could go someplace more suitable?” 

The Northwests couldn’t have been quicker to agree. “Of course.” The woman said, glancing towards her husband in what looked like slight apprehension to Stanley. 

“We shall be having tea in the west drawing room.” Preston decided, then cast a cool glance at his daughter. “Pacifica, please join us once you’ve changed.” The girl seemed to turn red at the chastising tone in her father’s voice but did not contradict him. 

“Yes, father.” Obediently, she did another curtsy for their guests before starting up the stairs in as much of a dignified manner as she could muster.

“Follow me.” Preston ordered and gestured them over as he started walking towards his left. 

Dipper ignored the conversation as he brought a hand up to gently pat Mabel’s cheek in an attempt to get her out of her little daydreaming state. It took the whole of the conversation and the adults were already moving towards the side by the time Mabel finally seemed to snap out of it. When she did, her eyes finally lit up in recognition as she saw her brother’s face before becoming incredibly wide and full of wonder. It served to confuse Dipper all the more. 

“Dipper, I think I just saw an angel!” 

“An angel?” Dipper repeated, completely baffled by his sister’s words and more than a little bit doubtful. 

“Yes!” She told him excitedly, looking awestruck. “She had blond hair and these amazing blue eyes and was wearing a lake-foam green dress an-“

“Mabel,” Dipper cut his sister off. 

“Yes?” she asked, not deflated at all by the interruption. 

Her brother gestured towards the staircase where Pacifica had almost reached the top. “Her?” There was a certain amount of disdain in the boy’s voice but Mabel was unaffected. Somehow, Dipper could have sworn Mabel’s eyes grew wider. He took a deep breath. “Mabes, I’m pretty sure Pacifica is human. She’s not even that bea-“

“Kids, are you coming?” Stanley’s voice cut through their conversation, making Dipper jump slightly. 

“Yes, we’ll be right there.” He assured, then looked at his sister whose eyes had yet to leave Pacifica’s retreating form. He pinched her arm, causing her to yelp a bit too loudly in the grand hall, the sound resonating off the walls. She glared at him and he smiled – by this point he was pretty sure the Northwests had heard them and were only ignoring the random startled sound for the sake of politeness. “Shall we, my lady?” he said, offering her his arm. 

Rolling her bright eyes, the brown haired girl giggled before grasping onto her twin’s arm. “We shall, good sir.” She answered with a grin but Dipper noticed her glancing back at the empty staircase as they disappeared into another room, leaving it behind. 

 

*****

 

Contrary to what one might tend to think when hearing ‘drawing room’, the chamber they were led to was nothing more than a normal chamber, decorated ‘tastefully’. A few glass figures were gingerly laid out near the window where the drapes had been pulled back to let in what little sun showed today but the room itself was cold and Dipper was grateful he was wearing a coat. Mabel wasn’t but she seemed just fine with the temperature as they all took their seats. The Northwests took their places on a sofa and their grunkles did the same on the sofa facing theirs. Dipper pulled out a chair for his sister somewhere near the end of the table and she politely thanked him as she sat down, careful of the frills of her dress. Dipper didn’t fail to notice the distasteful look the lady of the mansion gave his sister’s colourful dress and he took a seat near her almost protectively. His twin didn’t notice though, more occupied in doing a quick evaluation of the few paintings around the room. Most were of the Northwests, faces with smiles pulling at their lips almost hurtfully as they stood with pride, flaunting their achievements, the dark golden frames around them marking their importance. Dipper didn’t doubt Mabel could make better paintings than these any day and she didn’t doubt it either judging from her expression. In truth, both twins would have probably preferred for a ‘drawing’ room to be exactly that, a room where they could draw, something similar to Mabel’s art room, but Stanford had long since given them a whole history of how ‘drawing’ came from ‘withdrawing’ in this case and was merely a room where one entertained guests, not some art paradise of the property. 

Preston’s voice cut through the air and Mabel tuned in on the wedding arrangements with new found vigour. Dipper instead blocked everything out unless he needed to know about it, his mind barely catching fragments of what was going on, just enough not to be caught off guard if anyone asked him a question. He didn’t want to listen to this, every word they said about the wedding and about their plans just added to his dark mood so he chose to ignore it for the sake of his sanity. He still paid enough attention though. He really did. At least he was paying attention until he noticed something outside in the garden and his eyes shifted from his tea towards the window in a matter of seconds. His brows furrowed as he realized there was nothing there. No, there had been something…The conversation barely involved him so he took to getting up and pretending to examine the glass figures near the windowsills, but his gaze was truly out the window for that flash of red he had seen earlier. It wasn’t long before it appeared again, this time closer and right in front of him on the other side of the glass. He stepped back and almost tripped over the carpet. 

A gnome!

There was a gnome outside and not just any random one, but Jeff! What was Jeff doing here!? 

Looking back he could see the scolding looks of his family and – the thought made a shiver of slight disgust run down his spine – to-be-family. He gave them a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was not paying attention to where I was stepping.” And really, he had no better excuse right then. 

“Well, be careful. Those glass figures are fragile!” Preston said but quickly returned to his tea, seeming about to retake the conversation from where they had left off.

Dipper intervened before he could. “Great uncle Ford, do you remember Jeff?” he asked, hoping he would catch his drift but Ford just furrowed his brows while Preston glared at him.

“Jeff?”

Stanley seemed to be losing his patience as well while watching the exchange. 

“Yes. You know him, surely, small, wears a blue suit, long beard…” The more he said the more strange looks he got from the Northwests but Ford didn’t seem to quite be getting the hint. It was terribly frustrating. “Red hat?” That should definitely ring a bell, right?

“Sorry Dipper, but I can’t seem to recall who you’re speaking of?” 

Or not. 

The tone was vaguely apologetic if not a bit confused and Dipper could have screamed in frustration as he noticed the earlier gnome – or was it another? – going by the window a few more times if only to tease them for not being able to catch him. 

“A gnome.” His eyes snapped to Mabel who seemed to have just realized what Dipper was speaking of, or perhaps she had just spotted the infuriating one by the window. “I mean, he looks like a gnome, don’t you think?” Her quick save helped ease the pressure that had gathered in the room, though both Northwests seemed a bit put off by this change of conversation. Ford’s brows rose as he understood what was going on, though Stanley didn’t seem to have caught on yet. 

“Who is this Jeff?” he snapped, annoyed. 

“Oh, just an acquaintance, no one important.” Mabel said with a flutter of her hand, quickly dismissing the conversation. She got up so suddenly that she startled the people around her. “My, those cookies are late! I think I’ll go check on them.” She decided, giving Dipper a knowing glance as she headed for the door in a bit of a hurry and pushed it open so that no one could get a word in to stop her. The cookies weren’t late though and when Mabel pushed the door open with such surprising strength, it hit the poor butler right in the face, instantly knocking him unconscious. In the sudden flurry of cookies Mabel just barely grabbed the tray but was not able to do anything about the few cookies that reached the ground or the falling man.

There was a thud.

Dipper realized what was happening from the moment Mabel opened the door, his eyes widening. Before anyone could really look towards the door he spilled his cup of tea which was almost untouched. He heard a shriek from the lady of the mansion and her husband. “Sorry! Let me help clean it up!” Stanley looked as if he could strangle him as he grabbed a white cloth and let it soak up some of the damage. “It seems like we’ll need another towel, I’ll be just a moment.” Forget the fact that he had no idea where they kept the towels. He went towards the door – dirty towel left on the table – and was out of it in a flash along with his sister, closing the door behind them. Mabel had thankfully managed to successfully struggle the man’s body away from where he’d been in plain view from the door but the butler was, by all means, unconscious and bearing a bloody nose. 

This day kept getting better and better…

“Dipper, what do we do?” she asked him, looking slightly panicked for about a split-second. “This is just like one of your weird novels! We can’t have this on your wedding day!” she lamented.

“Rehearsal.” Dipper corrected but his twin wasn’t listening. 

“Here, hold the cookies!” she thrust the tray of remaining cookies to him and he almost dropped it in the process, only to then see Mabel grabbing at the man’s legs. 

“Uh, Mabel?” He started carefully, watching as she dragged the man across the floor. “What are you doing?” 

“Trying to hide the body, duh!”

Dipper felt a headache forming for a whole new reason. 

“Mabel, he’s unconscious, not dead!” he whispered screamed at her, hoping they would not be heard from inside. 

She let go of the man’s legs. “You sure? He’s not moving.” Her brown eyes squinted at the man lying on the floor with a bloody nose. She almost seemed disappointed at not getting to hide a dead body.

“He’s breathing, Mabes.” He pointed out, exasperated, placing the tray at the edge of some plant or another. It seemed enough to please her once she saw that his chest was going up and down with struggling breaths. “Plus, we have more important things to deal with!”

And as if on cue, the gnome from earlier went running up the stairs and the twins didn’t waste any time in sprinting after it. “Follow that gnome!” Mabel all but yelled as they started running up the grand staircase. Dipper could only hope Stanley had an array of lies on hand for that as they took the stairs two at a time. And even with how fast they had been the little creature seemed to be nowhere once they reached the top. “You think that was Jeff?” his sister asked, not out of breath in the least. After running so much after the supernatural they were both used to the physical side of the hunt – though admittedly Mabel was probably having a bit of a harder time since she was wearing higher heels than Dipper was that day. After all, she loved fashion. Originally only men wore heels but women had not been too far behind in it and Mabel simply adored them having something in common when it came to their attire. It had been at her insistence that they both wore heels today, she had even gone as far as to look at the lengths and choose some that would have them at the same height, since Dipper had grown taller than her along the years, not by much but just enough. It wasn’t as if some heels would put a stop to their chase though.

“Might have been. You go left, I go right.” He didn’t wait for her answer as they both started on their respective sides of the house in search of the gnome. If they got lucky it would just be a few having gotten lost around the mansion, if not then there might be a problem. 

A gnome infestation was the last thing they needed.

Dipper started at a swift pace through the right part of the house, keeping his eyes out for gnomes, but he barely caught any sign of their bright clothes or beards as he made his way through the house, opening doors and peeking in to make sure they weren’t hiding there. He was so caught up in it that it didn’t even occur to him how unusual it was that such a large house was so empty when most would have servants living there. He pointedly ignored the fact that they were probably taking more time than was acceptable to get some cookies and a towel. Finally, he caught sight of bright red hat, hiding behind a potted plant. The gnome might have heard his steps by that point but if he was careful enough maybe he could catch him…Slowly, Dipper made his way closer to the plant hoping not to alert the creature of his presence but just as he was about to catch it the gnome jumped away and started running down the hall on all fours. “Come back here!” he called after it and broke into another run down the long halls. He wasn’t concerned with the Northwests hearing him this far from the drawing room. 

The hall ended up in a room, the door open, and Dipper barely stopped himself from likely slipping on the floor and hitting something headfirst in the process. He was panting by this point but there was no way he was going to let that gnome get away from him. It only seemed to be one, thankfully, but for all he knew there might have been more on the east side of the house where Mabel was. Mabel knew how to take care of herself so he wasn’t worried. In truth, he was probably enjoying this more than he should, one last run after the supernatural before he had to be cooped up with that prissy princess and her straw coloured straight hair. There were no thoughts of saving the arrangement or making sure the Northwests were comfortable as he went after the gnome, just the pure adrenaline of running and interacting with the supernatural as it should have always been. He tried to quiet his breathing enough to listen in around him. For a while there was only silence. The room was cluttered and covered with dust, white cloths placed around on various unidentifiable items. There were a few old chairs around, even an old desk, and cobwebs stuck to the corners of the place. It wasn’t a room that was taken care of, more so an abandoned store room than one of the posh ones he and Mabel had been showed to earlier. 

Something fell to the side and Dipper threw himself on the gnome before it had the chance to think twice. For a moment he had caught the creature but the thing tried biting him and he found himself having to let go before its fangs sunk into his arm. It ducked under an old desk and Dipper tried following but was only met with empty space and fresh air hitting his face. There was a hole in the wall leading into empty space with the garden underneath. For a moment he could only stare, baffled. In the end, all Dipper could do was lean in to catch the gnome’s retreating figure from where it had fallen into a bush of sorts. “Damn it!” he cursed under his breath but, frankly, there wasn’t much he could do and the creature was away from the manor now…Sighing softly, he could feel the adrenaline from earlier slowly dying down as he crawled out from underneath the desk, suit now covered in dust. 

He probably looked like a mess. 

And somehow he felt cleaner and more refreshed than he had the whole day just by having that run in with the supernatural. For a moment he felt as if he could breathe again, worries about the rehearsal of his wedding and the actual ceremony far away. For just a moment he felt better and wondered how it would be if he just ran away, if he could shrink himself and jump through that hole in the wall like the gnome had, disappear from sight in a bush and make his escape to the forest or some far away town without anyone trailing behind him. How liberating that would be if only he could sway his heart away from the duty it held to his family and from the feelings of love it held for each remaining member of the Pines bloodline. He was too responsible, a bit too empathetic for all his ignorance to society and too scared of what people would think if he was caught, terrified of petty consequences that seemed worse than death or sickness to him. At least when you were sick no one asked anything of you and you could not be held accountable for anything, you could just be pitied. Unfortunately, Dipper had never considered himself the type for a slow decay and the thought of not being able to do anything made him want to vomit…perhaps that was one of the reasons why this whole situation had put his stomach in knots. 

Taking in his surroundings, he once again looked over the white fabric covering most possessions, he noticed the thick layer of dust, the small little knick knacks on a forgotten desk that seemed to move when a harsher wind blew from outside through that concealed hole in the wall, the little potted plants which had died without water and the grimy walls. He slowly took in the room as if seeing it for the very first time, like he had just woken up in it. Somehow, he felt that way as well, tired and almost dizzy with the detailed image of every old piece of furniture and decoration in front of him. Everything looked too clear and after blinking his eyes even the dust in the air seemed too evident as it danced in front of him. It probably took him much longer than he thought it did to just look everything over, slowly, taking in every shape and detail, every little thing in that small storage room… 

The wind blew softly and Dipper’s eyes finally made it to the side of the room opposite of the door, the side that was completely covered in white heavy fabric. It moved slowly as if someone was breathing into it. Heart racing for no apparent reason, he took a step closer, then another and another till his long legs brought him in front of it. Slim fingers reached out and he grabbed onto the dusty fabric, giving it a harsh yank before all of his courage left him, effectively causing it to unravel from where it met other similar cover ups and fall down onto the floor in a flurry of white and dust particles. 

Dipper didn’t hear the knick knacks that fell somewhere nearby, didn’t feel the dust stinging his eyes and tickling his face, the shifting of the fabric was just another distant sound ringing in his ears and, for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. He was nowhere he knew and yet he was also home. Safe and sound and held into fingers of warmth and knowledge, dyed in red and gold. The white fabric slipped from his fingers and shifted silently as it fell completely to the floor. Brown eyes watched in horror and awe as his vision was invaded by warmth and anger, heart thundering in his chest, ringing in his ears, as he stood in front of the majestic stained glass that had revealed itself to him. A triangle with one eye looked down upon him and, somewhere during the cascade of colour, the air had become palpable with anger and fingers of icy fire, making cold sweat run down his spine. His voice disappeared and he had to force himself to gulp to make sure he had not drifted out of body. For one short moment he felt as if he was in his room before realizing that his room had a smaller window. This one almost took up the entire wall and was more red than gold, more intimidating in its stance than the caress of the golden rays his own brought. 

For a moment that seemed like an eternity he couldn’t move and when he did his shoulders shook with laughter. 

A stained glass of a triangle with just one eye! Who would have thought the Northwests of all people would have such a thing in their house!? Through all of the fear and the palpable anger that coursed through the air and enveloped him, his laugh resounded, more so like madness than anything else as he couldn’t find it in himself to stop for what may have possibly been just a few minutes or a whole half an hour. When he did he had tears in his eyes and he could feel his stomach hurt from laughing too hard. His heart was still racing for reasons he couldn’t place, he knew something was telling him to be afraid, to be terrified because madness was grasping its hands around his throat and combing its fingers through his mind but somewhere in his subconscious the image before him just triggered a resemblance of ‘normal’, a memory of happiness for whenever he stood at his desk. For whenever he felt happy in his little sanctuary whether he was drawing, writing or reading a book with rapt attention, a resemblance of all of the specimens in his room. It reminded him of his safe place in his chambers and however hard that fear grasped at his heart it did not manage to make him actually afraid. 

“Gods,” he giggled, unable to get over his earlier laughing fit just yet, a grin having taken hold of his lips. “Am I happy to see you.” His voice seemed to soften and some of the energy in the room lessened…or perhaps he was just dreaming. Perhaps this was a crazy dream and he’d soon wake up to Pacifica shaking him from wherever he had managed to fall asleep. He didn’t want to think of it though, he wanted to bathe in the warmth of reds and golden rays for a while more…His fingers reached out to touch the stained glass, to feel if it was as cold to the touch as he remembered it, but another gust of wind caught his attention. Reluctantly, he finally moved his eyes away from the window, retrieving his hand to his side. 

Had there really been a piano under all that fabric? The shape of it had been different before, Dipper could have probably sworn this on his life but the thought eluded him as if chased away by mist and what was likely his own ignorance. There was a piano there. Maybe it was simply because it was an old thing, covered in dust and a bit mistreated from the scratches it bore or because it was an instrument he knew how to play but he was happy to see it. Pianos always made him happy, perhaps there was just something about being acquainted with the instrument enough to play it that made all musicians happy when they saw it. Whether it was because they could play it and it tickled their pride or because it brought back comfort and familiarity Dipper couldn’t say…perhaps it was just knowing that one simple instrument could bring back the atmosphere of home, of concerts and of anything one has ever lived through by just playing one song or a few keys. He stepped towards it, shoes resounding quietly against the wooden floor, and couldn’t help but feel as if he was being watched…as if his every little move was being held under scrutiny and if he made one wrong step he’d regret it.

And somehow he didn’t feel threatened…

This time he reached for the piano, touching the keyboard cover and running his fingers over it. 

When had he started shaking?

Bringing his fingers up he saw that they were indeed shaking and full of dust. What did it matter though? He was already covered in dust, a bit more would barely make any difference. He put his hands over the cover and pulled it up to reveal black and white keys bathed in angry red light. Somehow even the keys seemed dusty. He pressed one out of curiosity. If this piano was as old as it looked then it probably wouldn’t be in the best condition and might even be out of key…but the sound that came was a perfect high note. He pressed a few others tentatively, then switched to pressing three keys or more at a time like a child who was testing a new toy. He smiled at the sounds and sat down at the chair in front of it.

Had that been there before?

His hands hovered over the keys and Dipper tried to will them away from the tremble of the constricting aura around him. For one moment he looked as if he would just slam his fingers down onto the instrument but, instead, they came down gently to settle on the keys. His trembling fingers somehow didn’t lead him to mistakes as a soft tune travelled through the room, small pauses accompanying the song at first before his hands gained some confidence. The song was gentle and sweet, it held a sadness to it just as much as it held affection and Dipper lost himself in the sound. His tense shoulders relaxed and the change of gold from red seemed to go by unnoticed as he played. Perhaps had he been paying attention he would have noticed there were many things wrong in that room. After all, how could wind come from a window that was closed? How could a simple piano be underneath a cloth where earlier he had seen an accumulation of sharp edges and strange shapes? How could such an old and dusty piano, worn from use, even be in perfect tune after it seemed to have been left there to rot for a thousand years? 

The room was warm. 

It was warm and the stained glass turned colourless rays that would have bit into his flesh with cold into golden heralds of comfort and sweetness. The music resounded loudly in his ears but almost glided through the air around him, the dust had disappeared somewhere far away and his fingers easily found the keys on the instrument as one would spot their favourite person in a crowded room. 

And for a piece of eternity he felt at home and happy…

“Dipper!” 

The scream startled the living daylights out of the boy, fingers coming down suddenly and harshly on the keys as if to grasp reality. It only managed to make him cringe as the horrible sound hit his ears and broke the song, broke the beautiful spell that was around the room. He breathed heavily for a moment and his heart beat thunderously as if he was just about to have a heart attack. He grasped at the fabric in front of his heart for a moment and then pulled at his tie, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe.

Mabel.

Mabel was calling for him.

He was in the Northwest mansion. 

Shit.

He got up from his seat in such a hurry that he knocked it over, which only caused him to cringe again as the loud thud reached his ears. As quickly as he could he started dusting himself off, which only served to make him cough like crazy. 

“Dipper!” 

The call came again. 

“A moment!” he yelled back and debated if he had time to put the white sheets back but he knew by the urgency in Mabel’s voice that time was limited. The last thing he got to do was close the keyboard cover to hide the guilty fingertips left in the dust on white and black keys now bathed in soft gold. He was just about to exit the room but found himself stopping in the door just after he had opened it – he couldn’t remember closing it. He allowed himself one last glance at the stained glass and that familiar triangle with just one eye before breaking into a sprint down the halls and towards the grand staircase. 

Mabel was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! This is the second chapter, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> I would also like to make clear I have no idea what I am doing most of the time and all of you should assume my chapters come with the complimentary apology sticker if the chapter is too long or too short. 
> 
> Also, the next chapter is likely to be more of a Mabifica chapter so I am not going to actually get into the meat of things till the 4th or 5th chapter...trust me, I'm as impatient as you guys to get to the cute - and possibly crazy - interactions between Dipper and Bill though I also quite like more subtle things as you might have noticed at this point. 
> 
> I usually tend to try and listen to piano playlists on 8tracks while writing this but I found two particular songs I really like so if you want to check them out they are 'Smoking books' by Gavin Mikhail and 'Arrival of the Birds and Transformation' by The Cinematic Orchestra, the second is the one I kept on repeat while writing the last part of this chapter.


	3. The Wrong Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gnomes are really pesky creatures.

Beautiful. 

Oh Gods of beauty and fairies of raindrops, she was so beautiful the ocean would have dried up in shame just by being in her presence. The sun had already writhed away and curled up shamefully under the covers of its faithful clouds, with no hope to match the perfect locks of sunrays that caressed the pale beauty’s shoulders. She had captured all of the Earth’s beauty somewhere in herself and the world of grey they had to live in now was purely her fault for she was too grand for any creature to feel itself worthy in her presence. She was far too pale to be anywhere in the real world as well, like the feathered wings of light she was missing in the darkness of the hall. Each strand of hair was perfectly straight and falling near her body with the grace of benevolence while her eyes seemed to be holding back from being completely open. Perhaps she was holding back as to not blind them with the pure crystal beauty that were her eyes or perhaps she had long since given up part of that to just be able to look at them almost indulgently, with a look that knew more than she let on. Her smile refused to reach her eyes but she still held them in wonder just by existing there in all her glowing beauty and lake-foam green dress. 

Oh, she was beautiful…

She took out the light of the room and incorporated it in herself with kinder tones and more precise purposes, almost blinding them with her reverence when she stood there. Prim and proper, she donned a gown of green. It covered the sides where her hair would have fallen, hiding naked shoulders and arms, leaving only soft hands and long fingers visible to the naked eye. A dark pendant stood at her neck and there was the curve of her bosom before a sash matching the colour of her pendant wrapped around her thin waist, the gown finally erupting in an explosion of green underneath her waist until it touched the floor. There was little skin to see of her and her dress bespoke of humility as much as it bespoke of riches and grace, there was so little to see and so much to take in by laying eyes on her that one found themselves floored as to what to say. It was of little wonder as to why the Northwests never opened the gates, they must have been quite sick of continuous silences and stuttering fools, just as they must have been bored of people gawking at their daughter. 

And despite that, gawking was the best Mabel could manage as she took in the girl before her, the one who was to be her twin’s wife in no more than a day. 

And Gods be good, she smiled, she smiled at her and looked at her with those crystal eyes for just an instant and the artist felt her knees weaken to the point that she would have wobbled in her heels had she not been frozen in place. She moved with such elegance, Mabel almost expected her to float, to unfold soft wings of light from underneath her hair of pale sunshine and take flight in front of them but she remained on the floor with grace, hands clasped in front of her. Had Mabel had all her senses about her perhaps she would have noticed Pacifica was clasping them in such a tense manner that it could not have possibly be as comfortable as she made it out to be. But as it was, her mind was a jumbled mess without order, of colours and words without sentences to be able to convey them.

Curiously, the girl reminded her of wind chimes. 

What a silly thought but she did! Grunkle Stan had gotten her some wind chimes a while ago and she had happily hung them in her room, near the window, to hear them lull in the air of a new day and greet her with sweet sounds as she woke up in the morning. The wind chimes in her room weren’t big, there were four chimes, long and slim, and in between was a small ball that hit them softly when it moved and made the melody resound along her room, at the end of it hung a little star which her Grunkle Stan had thought very fitting, though the top of it wore the sun. They made beautiful sounds when they were moved by wind, soft and light and high, gentle like the caress of the morning sun in a green field, and Mabel could almost feel the exact same sensation when the woman before her moved – soft skin, light in her movements, gentle as to not scare them…and surely she must have descended from some higher plane for Mabel had never seen such a wonder except in paintings. 

Even her paintings were no match for her beauty.

And, strangely enough, it was because of Dipper that she had gotten the wind chimes as well, just as it was because of him that she had the pleasure of meeting Pacifica. Grunkle Stan had made the arrangements, of course, but it had been the side of their family that had their noses always stuck in a book or another – or in mud sometimes depending what supernatural creature they had been trailing and had given them that occasional brush with death that both Mabel and her Grunkle had to chastise them for almost daily after saving them – that had ordered them. Mabel wasn’t sure why wind chimes had been important. It was something about them keeping away evil spirits of a kind or another and experimenting with them. The experiment hadn’t lasted long though. 

Actually, it hadn’t happened. 

Her Grunkle Stan had taken out the wind chimes for her and had brought them up to her room as soon as they arrived, excited to see her grand smile, but the rest had been taken up by Dipper to be stored safely into his room till Ford returned from an expedition to one side of the forest or another – he might as well have been grocery shopping, you never knew with that man. Stanford had returned quickly enough, a few hours later to have supper with the family, and things seemed as normal as they could have been. They had barely even sat down when a loud crash resounded through their house and had both older men on alert for any dangers while Dipper had instinctively set himself in front of Mabel and ducked just in case something was about to come in the room or hit them. It was only normal for them to be a bit jumpy since their family dealt with so much from the paranormal to crazy tourists and fake magicians. For a few long moments nothing had happened so they went to investigate, Mabel and Dipper following up the stairs after their Grunkles. They checked several rooms to find nothing incriminating, though Mabel could still hear the soft chimes from her own room even if she couldn’t recall leaving the window open. 

There shouldn’t have been any wind, right? 

It was in Dipper’s room that they found their answer, the remains of the chimes glistening crimson in the sunset coming from the window, sprawled near the desk in shattered pieces. Her twin had looked mortified to realize all of them had been destroyed. It was ridiculous! Mabel had dropped hers several times while trying to hang it up but nothing had happened, yet one fall from Dipper’s desk – though the boy swore he had left them underneath his bed and nowhere near the desk – and every other wind chime found itself destroyed and in shambles. The experiment had been completely called off after several other such events, most falling upon Dipper’s shoulders. Mabel couldn’t blame Stanford for calling it off, she would have been too infuriated to continue a painting as well if her paints kept getting ruined! 

However, Pacifica wasn’t a wind chime. No, she was an outstandingly beautiful young lady of a noble family and far more important. 

She was to be Dipper’s bride…

Mabel could only hope that whatever bad luck had followed Dipper when caring for the wind chimes would not carry to Pacifica.

There were no wind chimes in her ears right now though, there was only Pacifica’s image and the sound of her name resounding somewhere in the back of her head, becoming softer and sweeter with each repetition like a slow waltz. She could have painted her. Mabel could have painted her as she was now in that lake-foam sea green with her slim figure and gorgeous jewels, she would have needed new paints to fully grasp the texture of her skin and the sharp beautiful lines of her eyes, but she could have done it. Or she could have painted her sitting down and sipping tea like a lady of her station often did or could have painted her drinking hot chocolate and smiling like a child. She could have also captured her smiling with a book in her hands or playing games with other young ladies as herself but what reason was there to make a painting where more than half of it would be put to shame by Pacifica’s image? No, if she was to be painted it would have to be in a big frame all on her own, perhaps on a plush couch, or surrounded by jewels as beautiful as her. Mabel was seeing her for the first time but she could have bet her pet pig that the girl would have looked grand while horse riding as well. Did she though? If she did they could go riding together, but that was a thought for another time and a cold hand on her cheek brought her out of her plans and daydreams to see her own eyes staring back at her but with more hardness and black bags underneath. 

“Dipper, I think I just saw an angel!” she had lamented towards her brother, who was as skeptical as ever about it. It was not her best argument though but for a moment she could believe it. She could believe what she had seen had definitely not been from their plane of existence, perhaps she had dreamt it. Were they out of their carriage? She remembered mussing up Dipper’s hair in an attempt to style it but it looked as bad as before, definitely no change. She couldn’t tell for sure where they were for a moment, but what importance did that have after what she had seen? If she could she would have ran to her easel right then and started painting in fear of forgetting the image she had just seen, the one she had just memorized down to the last detail. 

“An Angel?” he had said in that blunt and confused manner he had, and for a moment she forgot that her brother, supernatural hunter and bookworm extraordinaire, probably thought of Angels as some great big beings with thousands of eyes and no kindness, benevolence or light to them in the least. 

“Yes! She had blond hair and these amazing blue eyes and was wearing a lake-foam green dress an-“ 

“Mabel,” Dipper cut her off firmly and she could see that small little frown he got sometimes. 

His definition was definitely the opposite of the beautiful maidens with feathered wings, the type that radiated beauty in waves, which Mabel had in mind…

“Yes?” she answered but could not bring herself to really feel deflated as the conversation passed by almost in a flash and she still found it a little hard to concentrate after that shock of beauty. Perhaps only artists got them for she remembered some people staring at her very strangely when she would randomly make notes for her next painting as inspiration struck or when she’d easily proclaim to someone that she wished to paint them. If that was the case she pitied those who did not, for they missed so much and robbed people of so much by not showing them their view of the world. 

Her brother gestured to his left and Mabel’s eyes turned to see the same lake-foam green retreating up the stairs behind a curtain of sunshine locks. Dipper’s voice didn’t’ reach her anymore as she stared again, quite shamelessly this time, while her mind processed that no, it had by no means been a dream, nor was it one now.

And sparkling fairy dust, was she beautiful…

It wasn’t till Dipper pinched Mabel’s arm and she yelped that she was brought back to Earth and fell back into their usual routine. And, with a smile, she was led to the drawing room of the Northwest mansion where each of them took their seats. Dipper sat near her as he always did, she would have found it weird if he hadn’t by this point. It wasn’t so much about sibling love as it was about social interaction. Dipper would sit near Mabel in social situations as to feel more comfortable among all of the people he did not really know or want to interact with – he was never one for social gatherings and repeated pleasantries – and so that Mabel could take the attention off of him if it came down to it, but he also stood near her almost like a guard. It wasn’t Mabel’s friends or acquaintances he usually worried about. He was more the type to overthink and worry about some random supernatural creature or another that might make its way inside and dare even try to touch his twin. They had had too many close calls and interactions with the supernatural not to be protective of one another, most of the time they could get out of them together. Mabel would, however, have to admit that she got out of it through some very original ways while Dipper took the logical route or would have some type of incantation written somewhere that would get them out of trouble – courtesy of reading too much and having Ford’s library to do with as he pleased. Regardless, her twin did not want to leave her alone in case something might harm her and she found it absolutely endearing. It was only when that protectiveness extended to social interactions and possible marriage alliances that it ruffled her feathers, even if he had her best interest in mind. 

As they took their seating arrangements, she got the chance to look at the portraits around the drawing room. Most could definitely have been done better, though what baffled her just a bit was how most could not match up to Pacifica’s beauty. This was her family so she would have expected more of a resemblance…then again, that beauty might have just been unique to her and Mabel was perfectly content with accepting that as a reason before continuing to look at the paintings with the critical eye of an artist. It was only when the discussion resumed that she brought herself back with excitement. 

How peculiar that she forgot what the excitement was for just a moment later and had to fake it not even a minute into planning. 

Why was she feeling this way? She should be excited! This was her brother’s wedding they were talking about and she had been positively giddy at the prospect of it, involving herself with the arrangements like no tomorrow…so why did she suddenly feel somewhat conflicted about it? Why were small pangs going through her heart for no reason when thinking about it? How come she did not want to be part of this anymore? Why did she think of perhaps messing up that cake order to delay everything? She wasn’t a bad person! No, this was her brother’s wedding and she’d be excited for him and help him the best she could. Like always! Dipper always helped her and did the best for her, more often than not he put her before himself and she was grateful. Sometimes she took advantage of his brotherly love just because she was a bit selfish, just a bit, so she should at least return the favour whenever she could. Plus, Dipper probably had more nerves than she did about this whole thing, he always worried too much and his stomach was likely in knots, she could almost read it on his face. It was her sisterly duty to help him and show him how wonderful this would be for him. He was marrying such a beautiful woman after all…

And perhaps that was what it came down to in the end. 

Dipper was marrying Pacifica. 

Dipper was a wonderful person for all of his flaws and strangeness and Mabel would not have consented to have just anyone marry him but, from what her Grunkle Stan had told her, Pacifica was a good person – and Gods knew none of her Grunkles had gotten any rest till they did not come back with answers to all of the questions she had laid out for the girl, she had made sure of that. Yes, Pacifica was a good person. She seemed sweet and she was unbelievably beautiful. What more could someone want? She was a noble and from a respected family, educated and more than versed in the workings of high society. She’d make a wonderful bride and that thought stabbed at Mabel’s heart a bit more than she would have expected. 

She fell behind in the conversation for one short moment just so she could clear her head. Beauty and sweetness were good but Pacifica had never spoken to her. However beautiful one should know the person before liking them…it was probably around then that it hit her that she actually had a crush on the girl she had seen just a few moments ago and holding the conversation became a bit harder as she mixed several things up and had to laugh them off. It was around that point that Dipper stumbled over the carpet. She loved her brother but she wished he wouldn’t be such a klutz in the most inopportune of moments. She did however know that him being a klutz wasn’t generally accidental though and that proved true not even a few moments later as he alluded to gnomes and they had to make their escape from the room to go after the supernatural – she would definitely have to apologize to her poor Grunkle Stan after this, he had not signed up for them making a ruckus that day and they were both probably giving him more to deal with than he had expected. The distraction was very welcome though, even if breaking someone’s nose – Dipper insisted he wasn’t dead and he was likely right, as usual – had not been in the plan. It didn’t count as they ditched the unconscious man and the scattered cookies to go running after a gnome not even a moment later, the girl’s small battle cry resounding through the hall. It didn’t take long to reach the top of the grand staircase and Dipper wasted no time in making their current plan, having them split thereafter to cover more ground. 

After all, they didn’t want to be late for the rehearsal. 

 

***** 

 

With the sound of the closing door resounding through the grand hall once everyone had entered the drawing room, Pacifica let her steps fall a bit harder on the ground than usual, letting her anger pour into every little clack her heels made as if the sound of them bouncing off of the walls could in exchange destroy everything around her and reverberate guiltily in the minds of the people who had wronged her. The sounds accompanied her dutifully and loudly to her room in the east wing of the manor – clack-clack – occasionally, she’d drift to walk on the rug and quickly move back to the marble floors when the sound wasn’t as satisfying to her ears, putting even more energy into her steps but never breaking the pace she had set for herself if only to graze the nerves of those imaginary beings that heard them. By the time she got to her room her feet ached from the force she had put into her steps, but she couldn’t bother to care. Perhaps her heels would break and then she’d have to go and change again and by then her mother wouldn’t care what she put on as much, just as long as it was a dress fitted for a young lady such as herself, like all her dresses were. She had thousands of dresses but somehow only the one her mother said was suited for this event though she failed to see how. 

Sea-foam green?

As nice a colour as one could care for, but lake-foam was just as good, it seemed more lively to her, easier to dress in and not as constricting. She had made a good decision…her mother just didn’t agree and her father always was on her side. Grasping the handle of the wardrobe she wondered if perhaps she could just destroy the dress, pretend it was an accident, get her way for once in her whole life before it would be handed down from her father to her husband. He wasn’t even that handsome or gallant. Oh, he said his courtesies well enough and spoke articulately for a commoner but she had heard empty words all her life and would rather not deal with them for the remaining of it. 

Grasping tightly onto the handle, she once again turned over the thought of destroying the dress, perhaps wearing something else afterwards that would suit her fancy, something that she would like, such as the dark ocean-blue dress or the violet one. The girl from downstairs had worn a surprisingly bright magenta gown which Pacifica wouldn’t have ever thought anyone would be able to wear without making a fool of themselves. It had fit her very nicely though. 

She’d do it. 

She’d destroy that dress. 

Her grip was tight and her knuckles white as she readied herself to open the wardrobe door as if it was some grand and heavy oak door instead of a simple one, but she hadn’t even started pulling when a tinkle of a sound resounded through her mind and she let go of the door and backed away so quickly that she almost hit the vanity behind her. Her hands grasped at the vanity table instead and she realized with contempt that she could not do it. For all of her pride as a Northwest and for all of her independence now that she was finally 21 years old, she could not go against her father and that horrible soft tinkling sound that would haunt her. The bell would make its happy little noise whenever she did something wrong and she would find herself ashamed and turning into a scared little girl even before her father had actually chastised her or told her what she had done wrong. Sometimes her mind went as far as to mistake other such bells for her father’s, causing her to jump or nervously check herself for any imperfections. People used an awful lot of bells, for calling servants, for festivities and for other various tasks. By this point it only put her on edge, as collected as she would seem on the outside, her heart would thunder in her chest with anxiety for a whole of ten minutes when she heard it. She’d will herself to trust logic that she had not done something wrong that time or another, but logic had long since lost its place when she heard that sound, it was just instinctual that she couldn’t bring herself to go against it or her family. 

Her eyes drifted away from her wardrobe, as if the construction was looking accusingly on her now, like it knew what she had been thinking. Instead, she looked towards the grand double bed which was far too big for her. Her lips shut themselves into a thin line, bringing up courage to take confident steps towards it and ignore what she had been about to do earlier, ignore that horrible sound in her mind that seemed to ring in her ears. Instead of sitting on the bed, she smoothed her skirts and knelt beside it, reaching underneath till her fingers caught the feeling of paper. She carefully clutched the object hidden within several layers of paper and pulled it out from underneath the bed. It was a painting and as she unravelled the paper with quick and practiced movements the silver frame and various colours started to come to light. The light that came to her room was white and cold, filtered through stormy clouds, but the painting itself was bright and colourful. The concept was simple enough but Pacifica had loved it all the same.

A shooting star. 

The star wasn’t as simple as one would think though and the sky was not dark, it was dressed in warm reds and pinks, the star shooting across the sky with a rainbow trailing behind it. Pacifica had seen rainbows before but they were rare and never bright. The one in her painting was the most colourful and happy thing she had seen in her whole life. It was because of that that she couldn’t keep it outside or hang it anywhere, her parents would have thought her mad! Art was no pastime for a lady after all, ‘too sensitive’ her mother would say. She did have several such paintings though, things she would sneak in every so often upon receiving them. 

The first one she had received had been as a token of good will from one of her parent’s business partners, Gideon Gleeful. 

He was a peculiar boy and Pacifica had never quite chatted with him much in the beginning but they had exchanged courtesies as it was expected. As their families made more plans with each other, they interacted more and Pacifica found him kind enough if not a bit overdramatic. He never caught her eye in any way but he managed to become a good enough friend. She had probably been fourteen years old or younger when Gideon had first offered her family one of the paintings, saying they were made by someone he knew personally, of great talent and beauty he had assured them. Her family accepted it kindly enough and for one grand moment she had thought they would keep the painting…only to find it tossed in flames later that night. It saddened her but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. 

Upon their next social she didn’t bring it up but a while later something had made her go to Gideon and, pulling him aside, ask him if he could get her another painting. He had read through her lie about the painting being in an accident but seemed to have decided he would get her another since she asked nicely. She was the heir of the Northwests after all, and it was best to get in good with her for the future. Ever since then Gideon had brought her the occasional painting whenever she was sure she could sneak it in without anyone noticing and, in exchange, she had put in a kind word for him with others and with her family. Charisma and influence did pay off nicely. She quite loved the paintings though, the spots of colours and the many different themes. She wasn’t sure who the artist was since the name was always a bit hard to read with all its curves and colours but she was grateful she painted them so they could bring a drop of colour into Pacifica’s darker days, it cheered her up a little to look upon them for even a few minutes. She also found the artist painted a lot of different things from shooting stars and rainbows to supernatural creatures, portraits and sceneries among other things. Every so often, Gideon would have to apologize to her for not bringing anything since the artist was in one of her odder moods and had moved from painting to sculpting or some other outlet. Pacifica would have liked to see that as well but there was absolutely no way she could sneak in a statue that looked as if it had been pulled out of a fairy-tale when she could barely sneak in a few paintings. 

The shooting star was her favourite. 

When Gideon had given it to her he had told her with amusement about how his artist friend had said wishing upon shooting stars would make your wishes come true. He didn’t seem to believe it and Pacifica had laughed and dismissed it as well. Who would believe such nonsense, right? But that night during one of the harsher storms the town had seen, she had pulled out the painting, barely finding it in the darkness, and had run her fingers over it as if afraid incriminating colours might remain on her fingertips even when it was completely dry. It had been a silly thought to wish upon it then, she had wished for something simple, for her parents not to find her painting. A clean up had been done the next day but they had somehow missed her painting…

Next, she had wished for something just as small like having her favourite meal that supper and was delighted to see it. 

Her wishes were pretty small most of the time but she always found they came true. She wanted to believe that this was what made them come true. Perhaps she would not believe on wishing on shooting stars but she believed on wishing on her shooting star in the beautiful silver frame as she caressed some of the colours or ran her fingers upon the frame. 

Yet, it did not work this time.

Perhaps it worked only for small things because Pacifica’s wish had fallen sour and heavy this time. It wasn’t much to ask for but it was more than usual to ask for one of her parent’s decisions not to go through. She didn’t want to go through with the wedding. Like any little girl she had dreamed of her wedding day, had planned it, she knew what she would have wanted for it but it was not what she was about to get. Duty came first but how come her feelings always came second, if even that? The boy she had seen downstairs looked like a mess. His hair was too long, she could barely spot his brown eyes, he was probably taller than her by a little, if she guessed correctly, and he had a faraway look as if he was thinking of something completely different. Usually people would be crawling at her feet and giving her compliments, they’d be giving her gifts to get in her good graces and gaping at her beauty but this one seemed to completely oversee her, even look her over somewhat critically – the nerve! – and Pacifica wasn’t even sure if she should be mad or happy he hadn’t taken interest. Regardless, he was downright infuriating and she barely knew anything about him except for what she had been told and his name…and she was pretty sure she had half-slept through anything that had been told to her about him. 

She must have been because she hadn’t even known he had a sister till they both made their appearance in the grand hall. 

The girl was…interesting. 

Pacifica couldn’t quite tell if she was stupid or simply weird with how she had looked at her, but that was probably the bitterness she had towards the marriage speaking. She seemed nice…Mabel, was it? Somehow the colourful dress she wore fit her perfectly, though the amount of frills it had made the blond wonder how she even managed to walk with it. She had hair as brown as her brother’s but while his was curly at the end and flattened on his forehead – in a most unattractive manner – hers was long and beautiful, healthy and going down till it almost reached the floor, a mess of wild and beautiful curls with a strange kind of order. Her eyes were alight with something Pacifica couldn’t place and, for all of her negative thoughts, she knew the girl wasn’t stupid. She was looking at her in just as critical a manner as her brother but it was a different sort that Pacifica hadn’t known before, it reminded her just a bit of how one of the painters had looked when making her portrait a while ago. The girl’s eyes had been blown wide as she gaped at her and it had taken all of Pacifica’s will not to blush like a maiden caught dressed inappropriately. Mabel wasn’t conventionally beautiful, Pacifica would think. Her skin was a tone darker than hers, she probably spent quite a bit of time outside, her lips were a bit plumper than her own and her cheeks as well. It gave her a sort of warmth and happiness that Pacifica rarely saw, if ever. Her body curved nicely, complimented by the strange dress choice she had taken to showing off, but despite looking very much like a lady her gestures had such energy to them that Pacifica wasn’t sure what to think – even if she had just caught a glimpse of them once they were heading for the drawing room and the brunette was holding onto her brother’s arm. 

One thing was certain though, it was hard to keep your eyes off of her.

Sighing softly, Pacifica put the paper over the painting in an almost flimsy manner and tucked it back underneath the bed. She’d want to look upon it one more time when she came back from the rehearsal surely. Getting up, she dusted herself off from whatever invisible particles might have caught in her skirts and moved towards the wardrobe with resignation. 

She opened the door and shrieked. 

 

***** 

 

If there was one thing that could be said about Mabel Pines, it was that she was an expert at running in heels. Going after the supernatural and having two bookworms in the family who always got themselves in almost death situations kind of did that to a girl. It came as no surprise that she covered a good amount of ground in the east wing searching for gnomes in a small period of time. It didn’t take her more than perhaps five to ten minutes to find one and catch it. Now, it may have not been too lady-like to throw your heel at someone’s head during a capture but it did work wonders and there were no Northwests to tell her she couldn’t! The gnome went down easily and she quickly retrieved her heel before shaking the poor creature out of its wits, not giving it a chance to even think of biting her. “Where’s Jeff!?” she asked, knowing that if they were to get to the bottom of this they would need to go to the leader of the gnomes, the one who had been so happily making faces at them in the drawing room. The gnome she had in her hands looked a bit startled to see her – they still did that sometimes when remembering they had failed to make her their Queen – and then seemed as if he was about to refuse answering her, but a shriek gave her more than enough answers. She threw the gnome into the nearest room and closed it before dashing down the hall towards the screech. She didn’t recognize the voice well. 

“Get off of me y-you” The voice struggled to find an appropriate term for its attackers. “Creatures!” Mabel was pretty sure they could find a better insult but that could be left for later. For now she just concentrated on the loud clicking of her heels against the floor as she went to the room where the noise was coming from. 

Alright, perhaps her heels were a bit too high, as much as she loved them and as good as she was wearing them, smaller ones would have probably been better for a gnome hunt. Not that she had any idea that’s what they would be doing once they were at the Northwest mansion, but there were many things she couldn’t quite foresee. Worrying about details was Dipper’s field, not hers. Her heels made a screeching sound against the marble and Mabel cringed at the sound as she almost slipped before stopping in front of a door. Inside was Pacifica in all of her green gown glory and, while it was true that Mabel would have very much liked to gape at her a bit more, it was a bit hard to do that when you were acutely aware of the gnomes clinging to her. 

“Oh, why hello Mabel!” Jeff greeted her from where he was standing near the vanity mirror, looking as if he had just been checking himself out. “You’ve come to take us back, have you? Well, I’ll have you know it’s too la-“ the leader of the gnomes did not get to say more as Pacifica somehow reached for a hairbrush and hit him with it so hard he fell off of the table. Mabel wasn’t far behind with intervening and helping get the gnomes off of the girl with a few good punches – growing up with Grunkle Stan had its perks. 

“What are these things!?” the blond girl asked, or more so screeched, moving a bit behind Mabel once the gnomes were off of her. She may have had the heart of a warrior but she was scared of this sudden attack, just like anyone would be. Mabel couldn’t blame her, despite everything she had been just as terrified of what might have happened to her when the gnomes first got her. She was lucky Dipper had been there along with one of Ford’s inventions to save her. 

“Gnomes!” She answered back and kicked another one out of their way as it latched onto her dress.

“Gnomes!?” Pacifica repeated incredulously and just barely avoided one lunging at her. 

“Tiny little men that live in the forest!” She explained and pulled Pacifica out of the way of one such creature, holding an arm around her. “Sharp teeth.” She finished, looking around for something they could use to defend themselves and get out of this sticky situation. Her eyes finally fell on the window. “I have an idea!” she told her, backing up just a bit as one of the little men tried biting at her. Pacifica still seemed scared, and a bit flustered to be pulled so close by someone, but it didn’t take her long to get Mabel’s drift. 

She grinned. “Got it.” Mabel smiled back at her and they both gave a nod of understanding. Grabbing at a metal stick near the fireplace – it might have been a poker but she couldn’t bother caring – Mabel swung it with surprising force to get the gnomes out of the way. Pacifica wasn’t far behind with going past them and opening the grand double window after some fumbling. The girls heard Jeff saying something about catching Pacifica while they unravelled their plan and the brunette just barely caught another gnome before it lunged for her soon to be sister-in-law. Pacifica returned the favour a moment later by pulling Mabel out of the way of a gnome who ended up going straight out the window. Mabel stumbled when she was pulled back, finding herself flush against the girl and flushed as realization struck her of how close she was to Pacifica. She pushed the thoughts away on grounds of annoying gnomes and started either plucking them by their hats and swinging them out the window or just hitting them out. Pacifica seemed to have found something similar to swing from the fireplace and followed her lead easily. She was surprisingly good at it too. Not long after the gnomes were barely there anymore with their combined efforts. The last that was left was Jeff, and Mabel stared him down as he tried to move backwards and shrink into a corner. 

“Jeff!” she started out in a harsh scolding voice while Pacifica stood behind her, still holding one of the metal things from the fireplace – Mabel had no idea what to call it but she really had more important things to deal with right then. “What did I tell you about picking on us Pines!? You can’t just go around and kidnap someone to be your Queen, we’ve been over this!” Yes, the gnomes were annoying and they were a pain, but they could be somewhat hospitable and you could have a conversation with them once they got it through their thick heads that you were not their Queen. Dipper had actually had more contact with them because he dwelt more in the supernatural but Mabel had, by extension, started spending some time with them as well, merely tea parties and conversation, sometimes love advice and trying to get them to understand that they would not gain a Queen by forcing her to marry them. That last piece of advice had yet to give fruition. Old habits die hard, she supposed. 

“Well, she is not a Pines so we thought we might give it a try and-“

Mabel cut him off sharply. “Pacifica is as much of a Pines as me and Dipper and you’d do well to remember that! And again, you can’t just force someone to be your Queen!” she brought her hands up in the air for emphasis in her frustration and Pacifica grasped one of them and caught her just before she hit the chandelier with her poker. She looked at it embarrassedly for a moment. “Oops.”

Pacifica looked about to excuse her when the gnome spoke again, looking a bit confused, his brow furrowed. “Wait, what do you mean she’s a Pines? She’s a Northwest!” It took him a moment as he seemed to look them up and down before understanding lit his eyes. “Ooh, I see how it is! How rude of me, I would never have done that if I had known she was taken!” his eyes turned to Pacifica. “Apologies, my Lady.”

“Well, now you know so you can be on your way Jeff – preferably before I defenestrate you too, like I did your other gnomes.” The female part of the Mystery Twins answered, a light smile on her face now that they had cleared most of this mess up. 

It was Pacifica’s turn to furrow her brows at the word. “Defenestrate?” she repeated the strange sounds off her tongue. 

“It means throwing someone out the window.” Pacifica gave the girl a weird look for knowing such a word. Mabel only shrugged. “Bro bro reads a lot and picks up weird words.” And she picked some up by default every once in a while like this one. “Flumadiddle is one of them! It means nonsense! He doesn’t really use it though, but I do.”

“So when’s the wedding? I don’t see no wedding ring.” Jeff said as if Mabel hadn’t just threatened to throw him out of the window head first with her poker. 

Just mentioning the wedding was enough to make Mabel light up and Pacifica turn slightly glum. “Tomorrow! We’re having a rehearsal today though.” She declared, proud when recalling everything she had done to plan, even if her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she spoke. Pacifica was her brother’s bride. Surely this was just a crush. It would pass and that was it. Yes, surely. Just a crush that would pass…well, it would have probably been easier to do that if she hadn’t just seen the girl fight off a bunch of gnomes with her. Screw high standards and pretty little paintings, there was something very attractive and wildly passionate about seeing Pacifica throw out gnomes like it was her daily job while her gown fluttered around her frame in wild green swirls that challenged any stray gnome to even try coming near.

“Tomorrow? Well, that is on short notice! I thought you said you’d invite us to your wedding. I must say I am very disappointed!”

It took Mabel a good moment to realize what he was saying. Her? Wedding? Her wedding? It was then that she realized how she and Pacifica looked. She had been the one to come as soon as Pacifica screamed, not Dipper – not for lack of want as much as for pure chance – and she had been the one protecting her at the beginning before they teamed up against the gnomes. They had been very close during the whole thing and might as well have been working together for years with how they had acted so knowingly of each other’s moves. And now? Now Mabel was standing protectively in front of Pacifica though the girl looked just about ready to smack the gnome in the head and be done with it if she had to. Pacifica caught on to what the gnome meant before Mabel did, but both of them were red when the thought sank in. 

“N-no, it’s not like that!” Pacifica tried to defend herself to no avail. 

“Oh, I see how it is.” The gnome turned around, looking insulted. “We have tea with you and everything but one word from your spouse and you forget we exist! Why I must say I have never been more insulted! If you had told us we wouldn’t have had to go through all of this!” he lamented, starting to walk in circles as he talked. Not quite able to deal with this right then and more than a little embarrassed, Mabel took one good strike at the gnome and sent him flying out the window, his screams fading as he fell into what was possibly a bush with a loud ‘oh’. 

“Sorry about that.” She apologized, a sheepish smile on her lips.

“Oh, no, it’s alright. I mean it wasn’t your fault.” Pacifica assured her quickly, blushing just as badly as she was. She wasn’t even sure why she was blushing. Perhaps it was the assumption of the gnome, perhaps it was the kind way Mabel looked at her or perhaps it was how cute and lovely she was up close…she couldn’t quite place it, but it might have been a combination of all of those. 

“And uh, thanks for the poker.” Mabel said and handed Pacifica the fire poker awkwardly, not sure what to do with it. The blond was confused for a moment, then laughed and took it. She had a very beautiful and light laugh. Mabel could have sworn it made her skin tingle to just hear it.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue. How did you know they’d be here?” Because she was sure she had seen Mabel go in the west drawing room with everyone else. The girl put the poker and her own weapon back where they had been before facing her again. By then the room was a bit of a mess and some things were definitely torn but the damage was not as bad as it could have been. Mabel’s dress was somehow untouched, but Pacifica’s had a few torn parts and what she could only assume was ash from the weapon she had used. 

“Oh, me and Dip Dop saw the gnome outside and knew something must be going on so we went to check. I heard you scream and here I am.” She answered, smiling grandly and gesturing to herself. She had a sweet and happy smile, Pacifica noted as she moved to close the window. It was around then that a small gnome came out from underneath her bed, pulling something. 

Pacifica’s eyes widened. 

“You let go of that!” she yelled at the creature, startling it before it begun to run. Mabel caught him by his hat and Pacifica opened the window just enough for her to throw him out. She promptly shut it afterwards. “You think those were all of them?” she asked, sighing in relief now that everything was over. She did not want to see those things around again and it was a bit disturbing that Mabel even knew those creatures. Sincerely, knowing that the girl’s brother had also somewhat indirectly been involved in this whole thing made her mood a bit darker. Mabel was sweet and kind and barely knew her so her kindness seemed genuine but Dipper’s just seemed like some feeble attempt to impress her. 

A failed one. 

Her heart was just calming down from all of the adrenaline when she heard Mabel squeal. “I didn’t know you were a fan!” she said and Pacifica was horrified to turn to her holding onto the Shooting Star painting she made her wishes on. She didn’t want others touching it, it was only hers and she felt as if the magic might sprinkle off of it and die if anyone else did. 

“Give that back!” She ordered, slightly harsher than intended and stumbling over her words as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment as if she had been caught with some big secret. Mabel blinked at her innocently, but the grin never left her face. 

“I haven’t seen this in ages! Ah, the paint is a bit off here. What was I even thinking with this shade of red?” Her eyes were fond as she looked at the painting, pointing out small things and talking so familiarly. She spoke like she knew it, like one would of old childhood memories…It took Pacifica a few good minutes as Mabel looked at the painting to realize what she was saying. 

“You…” she had to force the rest out in disbelief. “Made that?” The concept seemed so surreal that it was hard to grasp. The little shooting star she made her wishes on, its creator was in front of her. She was in front of her, kneeling down on her floor near her bed in a dress with frills one could have used for a pillow, hair a curly mess that somehow did not look unflattering in the least, face flushed from effort and she was in front of her in flesh and bone with beautiful eyes alight like the colours of her paintings. And she was grinning so brightly Pacifica wondered how she hadn’t gone blind by just looking at her.

“Yes!” She answered excitedly. “A long while ago though! You know, I bet I can make you an even better one, same concept.” She decided happily, already seeming to take her measurements as she looked at the painting critically. All Pacifica could do was slowly move towards the girl and sit down on the floor nearby as she stared at her in slight awe. Perhaps as she was right then she looked as silly as Mabel had in the grand hall but who could blame her? Mabel looked lovely as she stood there. She looked like one of her paintings, a bright spot of colour in white light, magenta, brown and warm ochre coming together to form her, she was easy on the eyes and very comely but attracting all of the attention in the room, movements alight with wonder and energy and face concentrated with a spark of fire and intelligence in her eyes. For all Pacifica could know she was staring at one of her marvellous paintings and not at the person. “It could be a wedding gift!” The girl decided and all of Pacifica’s thoughts fell down and back to reality. Mabel looked very much like a painting still but the thought of the wedding brought her back to earth enough to realize what was happening. 

The blond girl fumbled for words for a moment. 

“I, well, yes, perhaps.” She wasn’t sure how to answer to that. She got up almost brusquely. “If you don’t mind, I need to get changed.” She said primly with more confidence than she felt, hands clasped in front of her once again. It was Mabel’s turn to blush in embarrassment as she fumbled to get up through her frills and gently set the painting on the bed. 

“Yes, of course! I’ll uh, I’ll just go! I need to find Dipper anyway! Tell him the crises was averted and all.” Her words came quickly and Pacifica almost felt hurt by her fast departure. “I’ll see you at the rehearsal!” And with that the girl disappeared out the door and down the hall in a swirl of magenta.

Slowly, Pacifica finally willed herself forward one step at a time and closed the door to her room. Once it was locked she turned to put the painting back in its place but lingered just a moment to look at it. Perhaps it didn’t work with bigger wishes but it had given her something as a consolation and it was grand. Smiling softly, she carefully wrapped it in paper and placed it underneath the bed with all of the other paintings, then moved to call her maid and get herself properly dressed for the rehearsal. She did not wish to go through with the wedding, neither did she want to go to the rehearsal, but she did want to see Mabel and she definitely wanted to see that painting she had spoken of as a wedding gift to her. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her moving on as she took the sea-foam green dress out confidently and let her servant help her into it. 

 

***** 

 

Leaving Pacifica’s room, Mabel felt her cheeks flush though she could not say with what. Perhaps it was because of how beautiful the girl was, perhaps it was because of what had happened and how she had been flush against her for a moment, but she was pretty sure right then it was just because of embarrassment as she had left the room. Pacifica’s tone made her feel as if she had imposed her stay there and it made her flustered, though she could hope that was not the case. No matter now though, Dipper’s bride was safe and sound so it was time to find the groom. She returned to the grand staircase but saw no sign of her twin. She huffed. She had taken care of the gnomes so surely Dipper couldn’t have had much to deal with…unless they laid a trap for him? It was possible, Dipper was as good as a fighter against the supernatural as she was, especially when it came to gnomes, plus it had been his bride they were intending to steal. Then again, the gnomes had had no idea about Pacifica being engaged. 

Mabel started making her way towards the upper west wing to see if she could find him. Once she was far away enough from where their guardians were she took a deep breath and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Dipper!” She called loudly, letting it resound off the walls. She’d make an excuse later if anyone really heard them, but for now she had to find her brother before they screwed everything up by being late. There was no response except for the silence around her. She walked for a while more and took another deep breath. “Dipper!” She yelled again, a bit more demanding this time. She heard the faint sound of a voice from somewhere down the hall but saw nothing from where it was coming. Maybe she had imagined it? She turned around and started walking, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything while coming down that particular hall.

“I’m here.” She heard the breathless call along with the quick steps of a sprint and turned around to see that Dipper was, truly, there. He was there and leaning on his knees to catch his breath from the sprint. 

And he was an absolute mess. 

“Dipper what have you been doing!?” Dipper had the courtesy to blush. He brought a hand up to his messy hair and stuttered out what Mabel assumed was supposed to be a response, perhaps an excuse or another. “You look like a mess! You’re covered in dust and your hair is all over the place – you’ll make it worse if you run your hands through it, Dip Dop! And don’t you dare tell me you were fighting gnomes because I just saved your bride from becoming their next Queen.” Dipper cringed at her words but the last part seemed to be enough to bring him out of his reverie. 

“They were after Pacifica? Is she alright?” He seemed more curious than worried. Sure, there might have been some worry there but Mabel knew Dipper. She knew that when it came to other people he got this spark in his eye that said he was concerned for their wellbeing but more curious about what happened, while when he was actually concerned, which was mostly for his family, he didn’t care for anything else. This was certainly the former and Mabel almost felt a bit insulted on Pacifica’s side for it. 

She was to be his bride! 

“She’s fine, but we need to get you cleaned up, Bro Bro!” With that, she grabbed his hand and started pulling him down the corridor to a bathroom she had spotted earlier. She pulled him inside and started dusting him off, helping him clean off the dust he had somehow gotten all over his face and hands, even his shoes. “Also, you will have to explain to the gnomes that it’s you marrying her and not me.” 

He looked confused at that. 

“They thought you two were going to marry?” he seemed just a little amused and it was hard not to be. Mabel was so independent. Wonderful but independent and she wanted to have that freedom for a while more, as much as she adored love and its ideas. Dipper couldn’t imagine her settling for anyone and he couldn’t imagine her settling down too soon either…then again, they were both very picky people. It was probably one of the reasons as to why his family had arranged something for him, because Dipper would not have wanted to marry at all if it was by him. Not that he didn’t want to but he didn’t believe in just finding a person and settling down with them after a short period of time, he didn’t believe in love at first sight, he wanted to take his time falling in love with someone but many people did not have that patience these days. Life is short, they said. Life is life and what was the use of living it if you had to conform to so many things you didn’t like till the life you had wasn’t yours anymore? Mabel didn’t want to settle down quickly either but at least she had the occasional relationship and love struck expression. It was probably easier for her since she radiated charm when in love while Dipper found himself turning into an awkward, blushing and stuttering mess.

“What’s that tone for?” Mabel said, pouting. “I could marry her if I wanted to!” she retorted with a huff and handed Dipper a towel from nearby once the boy had drenched his hair with some water. Not the best of ways to do things but they had to get that dust out of his hair. Towel drying it was the best right then. Sure, it made a bit of a mess of it but they could make it work as opposed to him being full of dust. By the end he actually looked decent. 

“You have my blessing to do so.” 

Rolling her eyes, Mabel walked over to him and tightened his tie, making sure his suit was straight. “Don’t be silly, Dip Dop, she’s your bride!” And somehow that put a pang in her heart but it didn’t show on her face. If it did, Dipper made no sign of acknowledging it as he sighed deeply. “Smile, would you? It’s like you’re going to your funeral.”

“I might as well be.” Dipper grumbled but Mabel didn’t hear him as she adjusted her own dress and smoothed her skirts. Mabel was pretty and, sincerely, Dipper would have felt better if she had been the one marrying since she loved the idea, but that wasn’t the case. He put on a smile for her when she turned to show him her dress. “You look good, Mabes.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?” 

She grinned and took it as they headed out into the hall and towards the grand staircase. 

“We shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like you all to know I have no idea what I'm doing and that this is my first attempt at Mabifica so here you go. *makes grand gesture and sprinkles sparkles and glitter everywhere* 
> 
> I tried.


	4. Vows to the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing went according to plan...

As if echoing the twin’s earlier conversation, the heiress of the Northwest family had donned a dress of black. The lake foam green dress from earlier had disappeared in favour of what to Dipper seemed like a very similar colour. He really couldn’t tell that much of a difference except for a subtle nuance, which his sister had probably already picked up as a completely different colour, then again he had little will to even look for a difference. The girl’s neck was now encircled by black lace with a single green jewel in front, the only spot of colour from where the black seemed to go down her chest and then pour itself into the lower part of the dress, encircling it as it had her neck. Somewhere around her sides the black stopped almost abruptly and let green take over instead, as if offering it a consolation prize by allowing its existence. Her sleeves were only of green at first glance, but upon a closer look one could easily notice black material that took over the inside of her sleeves where they parted, seeming to want to drop down in sadness at the weight of the world; Pacifica’s hands being the only thing that held them up as they stood clasped in front of her, as a proper lady ought to. The upper sides of where her dress flared out were green as well, two big spots of colour on each side that then met in a grand bow at her back and fell in waves till the material reached the ground…the colour was pale and seemed faded, insignificant and drowned out by the harsh black that stretched far wider than the green, letting itself fall down till it trailed her like a shadow, dragging across the floor like a quiet animal stalking its prey. It was a grand dress, no doubt, it easily conveyed her position of nobility and it would have made people want to wait at her feet as she slowly moved and made her way towards them with her head held high and her shoulders pulled back, a true Northwest, like an animal of prey among herbivores…

As they were then it wasn’t hard to tell who the herbivores were. In truth, every person the girl saw was probably underneath her to some degree and Dipper could almost read it in her eyes. They were blue and icy and they watched them from what seemed to be a position far above them, it was as if it was a bother to even acknowledge such pitiful prey but they had disturbed her and had to be dealt with. A gaze should have been more than enough to put them in their place…so it wasn’t a surprise that a spark of annoyance had come into those crystal orbs upon meeting Dipper’s dark brown eyes. After all, the boy clearly should have known his place by then, should have known his position in society, his standing in her presence and his place in the general working of things, but instead of falling down at her feet with praise and humility, he met her gaze with a stony one that almost challenged her to try devouring him as she did everyone else. He was defiant and yet still in his position, almost calm, and that probably just served to feed her anger towards him somewhere deep down. Who was he to even think he could take up a position, assume a role for himself that she had not approved of? Who was he to think that just because they were to marry he could consider himself even near her position? Who was he to meet her gaze in such a straight-forward fashion when others would have been abashed to even have her look at them, especially with such an icy glare? 

Pacifica’s lips were a thin line as she watched the man she was to marry and his sister walk towards the staircase from the other side of the hall. 

The boy looked a bit messier than earlier but Pacifica couldn’t quite place why, perhaps it was that his suit seemed a bit rumpled or that she noticed some dust on his shoes; then again everything about him seemed distasteful to her when she held the knowledge of what was to come. By then she was actively searching for things she didn’t like at him, though she knew she shouldn’t have done that if only because he was Mabel’s brother and Mabel had been only kind to her. Even before she knew the girl she had been kind enough to make paintings that reached her and filled some of her life with colour…and even then there was no denying that Dipper’s hair looked worse than before and Pacifica hadn’t even thought that possible. It was just a bit curlier for some reason, ‘styled’ in the same fashion and messier. She wondered if he was trying to make this difficult and any other time would have confronted him directly about it, but as things stood then she did not want to make things worse before the wedding rehearsal. She was trying to keep things going according to plan but it was becoming hard to keep her tongue to herself in the face of such unprofessionalism. Her eyes had met Dipper’s the moment he and Mabel had rounded the corner but neither side had looked away as the twins approached, stopping at just a few steps away from where she was standing at the head of the grand staircase. 

For a moment none of them moved as the two stared at one another for a heavy moment. As they were then, her dressed in mostly black and him wearing a suit of the same colour, they really did look as if they were headed for a funeral rather than a wedding rehearsal. Finally, Dipper broke his gaze from hers and bowed politely. 

“My lady.” He greeted. 

Pacifica granted him a nod of approval for the gesture, but her body remained tense as she looked upon him. “Sir. Miss Pines.” She greeted them back just as politely. Him breaking their locked gaze should have pleased her, it would have been a sign that she had won when their wills met, it should have made her feel victorious when he bowed to her like the underdog he was, but if anything it only frustrated her more because she knew that was not the case. He may have broken eye contact but he had done so willingly, none of his defiance had left his eyes and neither had that iron will he seemed to hold there, he had broken their gazes with the confidence that nothing would change and that alone was even more infuriating than if he hadn’t broken eye contact at all. 

“Oh, just call me Mabel!” 

And just like that any confrontation Pacifica may have mentally been in with Dipper broke off at the happy sound of the girl’s voice. After a moment of slight confusion, Pacifica found it in herself to blush at how direct and friendly the request was. Mabel was a nice name, she could do that…it would probably feel as sweet on her tongue as the candy pieces Mabel seemed to have made her dress out of. “After all, you and Dipper are to be married! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you using his first name either!” the girl continued giddily and Pacifica felt a sour taste in her mouth. Yes, they were to be married and hence she should at least try to make everything work out, however much she disliked it. “Right, Dip Dop?” the female part of the duo asked her brother, looking at him with her bright eyes. 

The boy looked almost as taken aback as Pacifica at the sudden change in atmosphere and shrugged almost dismissively as an answer. “I do not mind.” And why should he? Everyone called him by his first name anyhow; another person would barely affect him. The only thing his mind feared was the way the girl would say it, the way she’d probably add that bitterness and crisp iciness to it when wording it out of her pretty little lips, as if she had a hard time spitting it out. “If it pleases you, of course.” He added politely afterwards, looking at Pacifica. He may have not been a fan of socials or anything of the sort, but he knew his manners well enough for whenever he needed them. He could also tell that one slip up in them and the girl before him would look down upon him as if he had committed a sacrilege against the Gods. 

He wasn’t quite willing to give her that satisfaction. 

“It pleases me.” Pacifica answered in a prim tone that made Dipper’s skin crawl. She was just so…perfect. She was perfect in the way porcelain dolls and china were. The type of things that were always held in high regard and loved by everyone, admired to the point of absurdity, the type that you barely touched because you didn’t want to use them too much, spoil them, accidentally break them or who knows what other horrible event which might befall them simply because you decided to take them from their rightful place. She was perfect in that infuriating way that no one bothered to criticize or question and all Dipper wanted to do was get as far away from her as possible because he knew that, just like with china and porcelain dolls, if anything were to happen to her or if she was to feel her giant ego slighted in any way, he would be the one to receive the blame. She would be found innocent, perfect and lovely, the damsel in distress which had the misfortune of having met someone too clumsy to handle her like the perfect little piece of art she was, while he would have been looked at as if he had committed an unspeakable crime. Everything about the situation screamed of a strange kind of constricting danger that made him feel anxious and on edge. It wasn’t even the type of danger he could run from or fight against, had it been anything to do with the supernatural he could have found a solution or figured something out, but in this case he could only hope things wouldn’t go horribly wrong as he powered through the events that were to unfold. 

Dipper didn’t miss how, despite what she said, Pacifica did not use his name. She did not offer for them to use her first name either and when she did speak, it was towards Mabel…Dipper couldn’t quite say he was upset. He noticed the slight but he couldn’t bother to care as he did not want to be part of the conversation to begin with. 

“I trust you and your brother did not find more of those pesky creatures, did you, Mabel?” Pacifica asked, seeming as if she hadn’t even noticed the tension that had filled the air a few moments prior. Her posture seemed a bit more relaxed and even her voice seemed lighter as she spoke. The way she said Mabel’s name sounded sweet, almost caring, and the brown haired girl grinned widely when she was addressed, a hand still holding onto Dipper’s arm as she spoke to the young lady of the mansion. 

“Nope! Dipper took care of any remaining ones on that side, didn’t you Dipper?” Her words held the clear intent of turning the conversation towards her brother but neither groom nor bride was interested in that. If anything, both seemed quite uncomfortable with the notion of having to go through with it. Dipper wasn’t sure if his sister caught onto their discomfort or simply had a spark of inspiration as she looked Pacifica over, but he was relieved when she changed the subject. “You look beautiful in black.” She said and at once the heiress blushed till the tips of her ears were red. Even Dipper didn’t fail to notice that. Surely Pacifica was used to receiving compliments, so her having such a strong reaction to a simple one was a bit peculiar, though most people would have been a bit uncomfortable under his sister’s critical gaze as she measured them from the crown of their heads to their feet. As if not to break the girl’s concentration, Pacifica seemed to go completely still under her gaze. Mabel soon broke into a grin, seeming to not even have noticed Pacifica’s blush. “You should come by the Shack sometimes!” She decided. “I could make you a portrait!”

“Perhaps.” The blond girl answered, and Dipper was surprised she didn’t stutter. Given Mabel’s enthusiasm, she would have to get used to it if she was to be part of the family. Even so, Dipper couldn’t help but think that Pacifica seemed strangely interested in Mabel all of a sudden. He was no love expert like Mabel was but even he could tell when someone had a crush if they were this awkward. And sincerely, if Mabel wanted to take him up on the offer to marry Pacifica in his stead he would have had nothing against it. Too bad Mabel was set on their marriage. 

“Isn’t it time for the rehearsal by now?” his sister pointed out but Pacifica didn’t seem to have an answer. They all seemed to have enough sense of time to know it must have been close to that time by now but none had bothered to actually check and the grand hall was missing a clock. Mabel looked at Dipper for an answer, as she often tended to do with such matters. Dipper untangled his right arm from Mabel’s hand and pulled his sleeve just enough to reveal his watch. His brows furrowed at the dust that had somehow clung to it and he kept back from making an annoyed sound as he wiped at it to see the time. 

Had he looked up, he might have noticed Pacifica’s displeased look. She wasn’t even sure why she felt so in truth, perhaps it was just a lot of small things piling together one by one that just made her dislike the other more than she should have. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to wear your watch on your left wrist?” she snapped, her tone cutting, but Dipper didn’t even seem to notice as he checked the time. 

“You’re supposed to wear your watch on the wrist of your non-dominant hand.” Dipper returned easily with a tone of superiority that made Pacifica want to strangle him. “As it so happens, I’m ambidextrous.” He finished, then stated the time. It was just a few minutes before they had to go to the rehearsal. Dipper would have expected that they would already be on their way to the church by then so they would have made good time and had the chance to get there at a relaxed pace, even greet the pastor and exchange pleasantries before they begun…then again, he was an obsessive list maker and it was hard to match him when it came to organization skills. He couldn’t expect everyone to be like that and, given the current situation, he wasn’t as bothered by it as he would have usually been. It wasn’t like he wanted this and the rehearsal couldn’t possibly take them a long time. 

“Well, from now on keep it on your left wrist.” It was an order more than anything and Dipper looked up at her, lowering his hand now that he had checked the time. She looked so confident in herself as she gave orders, crossing her arms over her chest and looking downright aggravating. Dipper would have liked nothing more than to snap back a retort but that would have done them no good. 

“I will keep it in mind.” He said simply, crossing his own arms over his chest in an act of defiance as their gazes met again. She somehow seemed more riled by that than she would have been if Dipper had talked back to her. And who could blame her? The boy was as infuriating in his courtesies as she was in her orders. 

“Uhm,” And by then the tension could have probably been cut with a spoon, you wouldn’t even have needed a knife. ”I’ll go check on what’s the hold up!” Mabel decided quickly and started making her way behind Dipper and down the stairs. “You two lovebirds have fun while I’m gone!” she wished them and went down the stairs in a flurry of magenta, soon disappearing down and towards the west side of the house. 

The atmosphere didn’t change at all, if anything it seemed to just get worse without Mabel there. Neither side of the soon to be couple seemed to enjoy the situation or each other’s presence. Dipper wasn’t sure if they were there for minutes or for hours before he sighed, bored of the whole stare down, and looked away. The girl gave a sound of defiance, almost a scoff, and turned her gaze away from him as if that would make him disappear. But it didn’t. “You know, it’s impolite to ignore a lady.” She told him, or more so snapped at him. Dipper could almost feel a headache forming from just being around her. How they were supposed to make a marriage work was beyond him by this point but he didn’t want to think about that right now. It would just serve to give him an even bigger headache, he was sure. And as far as he was concerned, he wanted to not think about the headaches he’d get from Pacifica once they were…married. 

Even the word seemed disgusting in his mind right then. 

“Apologies, I had thought you enjoyed the silence.” He told her back and the earlier silence returned. She may have wanted attention but without a proper topic of conversation Dipper wasn’t sure what she expected. Neither of them really wanted to talk about the wedding and Dipper could bet on his collection of supernatural artefacts that they had nothing in common to speak of to begin with.

Pacifica sighed deeply. 

“Look,“ Dipper really would have rather not looked at all with her voice screeching in his eardrums and her tone being so demanding he wanted nothing more than to go against it…but he did. He looked over and saw her standing tall, arms crossed, facing him with a look of determination that hid what he could only guess was fury and irritation. Somehow, he felt proud to have caused those emotions within her without even trying and at the same time dreaded what they would bring forward. Nothing good could come of it. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you do, but our parents have already decided on it. We should at least try to be…civil,” the last word seemed to come out as if it had choked her. “towards each other.” 

Silence hung in the air. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Dipper could see the logic in what she said. He could understand why they should at least try to get along and be nice to each other but he still hated it. He hated the idea of having to be nice to her for something he didn’t like, want or ever really agreed to. It may have not been directly her fault but her simple existence was ruining everything he liked, everything he wanted to do, through this marriage…it wasn’t really her fault though. It wasn’t and he hated to recognize it even to himself. She was just as caught up in this whole mess as he was. He still despised the way she had spoken the words though, as if she was making some grand sacrifice, but he hadn’t exactly been acting nice towards her so perhaps he shouldn’t blame her for it. He wouldn’t have managed to make those words any sweeter himself. He took a breath, as if to clear his head. He should agree. It was only natural. They should be civil towards each other and at least try to make this work, for their families at least. After all, everything was planned…it wasn’t as if anything could be done about it. 

He was just about to speak when the words died on his lips and he found the piano song from earlier coming to him unbidden. It was a beautiful melody, much sweeter and much more pleasant than the sound of Pacifica’s voice, it was much warmer than the cold grey halls of the Northwest mansion and for what seemed like several minutes, but was likely only a moment, it resounded vividly in his mind…and stopped at a horrible sound that made him cringe. He remembered the way his hands had fallen down on the keys harshly in surprise when Mabel had called for him but it didn’t make the noise in his head any better. Somehow, the headache got worse and he brought a hand to his temples as if it would soothe the pain there. The world seemed to come back around him, just as colourless as before and far too real and harsh…just as he remembered it. 

Pacifica hadn’t noticed anything of the sort though. She didn’t hear any piano music, nor had she heard anything from her chambers earlier. As far as she could see, Dipper was just ignoring her, he didn’t even seem to think her words over, just cringing when they were brought forth. Really, the nerve of this boy! Her icy glare seemed to have flames in it for a moment but she quickly reigned in her emotions. She was not about to let him of all people get a reaction out of her. “You know, you should at least take me up on the offer.” She told him, head held high and voice strict. The brunet finally looked at her. He seemed to be suffering from a headache. Good, he deserved it. “I mean, if anyone is the victim here, it’s me. I have to marry to someone who’s lower than my station. You should feel honoured to even be in my presence. People of your status aren’t even allowed near the gates, not to mention inside the mansion. And you, a mere boy of no value, are marrying a Northwest. Really, you should be kissing my feet.” Her words were harsh, but they rang true to her. People of Dipper’s status were barely allowed anywhere near the mansion and no Northwest in their right mind would have married below their station if they had the choice, but as it was Pacifica didn’t. In truth, she would have liked to marry whoever she wanted, regardless of their status, she liked the idea of falling in love and pampering the other, of being love struck and wanting nothing more than to spend time with your other half, but she was bitter right then and if it took the status card to make this boy see where he stood compared to her then she’d use it. 

She hadn’t expected in a million years that it would backfire, or that someone would even dare talk back to her. 

“You’re the victim?” The words came out as if Dipper couldn’t stand the taste of them, he almost spat them, and with such rancour that Pacifica actually found herself flinching when he looked over. His eyes were a dark brown to her. Pacifica had not seen them too well when Dipper had arrived and hadn’t liked the look of them earlier either, but she had never expected to actually feel any fear when looking into them. They seemed to have a calm about them most of the time, something that kept them in check and they looked like they could be pleasant when coupled with the right emotion, as infuriating as she had found them…but she had never expected them to look at her like that. She had never expected for those eyes to make goose bumps rise on her arms and make her words stop in her throat with fear. “Oh yes, I’m sure it must be very difficult for you to be with someone who doesn’t go down on his hands and knees to kiss your feet whenever they see you, begging every moment of the day for some stupid form of affection which might as well be a kick from the way you act. After all, how could anyone born below you be anything more than an insect in your eyes?” 

And perhaps he should have stopped. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken or talked to her like that in the first place, but it was difficult not to when she spoke like that to him. In truth, he didn’t care about what he said right then and couldn’t care that she looked upon him and others like insects, those were things that he had known for a very long time, ever since he was a child and instead of finding himself protected from the cruel jests people made about his birthmark he had to let them do as they wished because they were of a higher status than him and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He had lived just as long as she had, if anything he was probably a bit older than her, and he knew how society worked. He didn’t care about what people thought of his status by then, he simply knew. A fact, not an opinion. He wasn’t picking on it because it bothered him as such as he was doing it because he needed something to throw back at Pacifica that would sting since he couldn’t throw his true reasons. Pacifica may have been an heiress and may have had a very good education by being a noble but she had no idea about the supernatural and many things that happened in their city and beyond. When it came down to the supernatural she was just as clueless as any of the ‘insects’ underneath her feet. 

Dipper wasn’t bothered by the way she looked at people or how she acted right then, those were things he had expected and steeled himself against. What bothered him was her saying that she was the victim. In her eyes she might have been but Dipper couldn’t see it right then. It wasn’t as if he was stealing her from her riches or her position of nobility, even if they did marry she would not go down in status because of her family. The only thing she was losing was her independence as a free woman. Not to say that it wasn’t important but it seemed almost feeble and incomparable with Dipper losing the right to a whole world of wonders. There was no way Ford would let him continue to study the supernatural while being married, he said it was too dangerous especially with a noble as a wife. Not only would he not be able to go after the supernatural anymore, he wouldn’t be able to go on adventures with Mabel, he wouldn’t be able to study everything he had found, he wouldn’t be able to capture anything or do experiments, it was likely he wouldn’t even be able to study them from books because his dear precious wife would not have her husband read things that would somehow be inappropriate for their status. After all, nobles had to have a certain type of library and anything about supernatural creatures and monsters couldn’t possibly fit into that. Pacifica was losing some things as well and Dipper did not doubt that, but it wasn’t as if he would stop her from doing what she liked, he wouldn’t stop her from painting or singing or whatever other hobby she had, he couldn’t even care for that, but just by existing and marrying him Pacifica would put a stop to everything he had done in his life up until that point. Maybe he was selfish and sour, and he was being quite rude and horrible to his future wife as well, but right then he didn’t feel any empathy for her. 

‘I’m the victim here’ she had said and he had felt as if someone was playing a cruel joke of fate on him. 

The victim.

She was the victim? 

They both were victims there, the question wasn’t who was the victim, the question was who lost more. And when it came down to it, that was him and not her. 

“Of course, you’re the victim.” And once again that last word came with such hate the girl almost choked on it. The boy’s words didn’t hold any mercy to them and, sincerely, Pacifica was surprised at the callousness in his voice. Even more so, he didn’t notice how deeply the words seemed to hurt the girl in his anger. Her knuckles were white as she grasped at her hands and had she not had her dignity to hold onto she would have curled up on herself. She hated every word that came out of Dipper’s mouth and she hated herself even more for having played the status card. Had she kept her mouth shut maybe his words wouldn’t have stung her so much but she had been mad and now Dipper was returning that tenfold. She wasn’t a bad person, she didn’t want to be a bad person. She didn’t expect everyone to bow down to her feet, she just liked a bit of courtesy and the general pleasantries, in truth she wasn’t that hard to please. She liked to think she didn’t really look at status as much as others. She had been taught to do so since she was a little girl and it was in her habit by then but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t occasionally wondered how it would be to play and interact with whoever she pleased. She wasn’t a bad person. Despite everything she had said, she wasn’t a bad person and it hurt to hear the other say that she would treat someone close to her by ‘rewarding’ them with a kick. That had not been what she had had in mind at all and yet now she could not even contradict Dipper because of what she had said…and because she felt herself trembling and she didn’t know if it was with anger or because she was trying not to cry. She wouldn’t cry in front of him though. She had that much pride in her. “Since we got your views on me and my family cleared up then, perhaps you wouldn’t mind keeping away from my sister. She doesn’t deserve finding out how you view her.” 

A slap echoed through the hall and Dipper found his left cheek burning with pain. 

“How dare you speak to me like that!?” Pacifica almost yelled at him and her eyes were once again icy and angrier than he had ever seen them, but with how he felt right then he couldn’t bring any empathy for the girl before him. He kept back from cringing as he brought a hand to his cheek where she had slapped him. She had likely left a mark if the pain was of any indication. 

“Did I hurt your ego?” 

The words were dry but it was more than enough for Pacifica to want to hit him again. She was about to when her heel slipped on the edge of the stairs and she suddenly felt herself falling, a small scream ripping its way through her throat. Dipper’s eyes widened in panic and his instincts kicked in before he thought about what he was doing. He caught the hand Pacifica had raised earlier to slap him and pulled her back as soon as she lost her balance, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her away from the stairs and back to her feet. She was surprisingly light and he managed to easily pull her up. Stumbling from the sudden movement – and a tad surprised at the other’s strength, because in truth Dipper did not look that strong, if anything he looked quite skinny – Pacifica found herself pulled forward and against Dipper’s chest. For a moment she wasn’t sure what was going on as her heartbeat rang against her eardrums. “Are you alright?” She wasn’t sure where the voice came from in the beginning, but soon realized it was Dipper. 

She gave a weak nod. “Yes, just…” she gulped down some of the fear from earlier. “Shaken is all.” Dipper sighed and she could feel his breath against her hair. Yes, Dipper might have held a grudge against her, he might have torn her down with words and might have not been the kindest to her in the past ten minutes, but he had never intended for her to actually get hurt. The sound of a door opening echoed in the great hall and was soon followed by a small scream, which was then followed in turn by a shriek. Both Dipper and Pacifica turned to look towards the west wing where the sound had come from. Their guardians had come out of the west drawing room…and Stanley had promptly tripped over the knocked out butler, sound which had been accompanied not even a moment later by the lady of the house shrieking and Mabel laughing nervously as she tried to look surprised…perhaps they should have thought of moving the body away from the door. The attention soon shifted from the ‘murder scene’ to him and Pacifica and the look Mister Northwest gave Dipper was enough to have the blood in his veins turn cold. 

“What impropriety is this?” Mister Northwest’s voice echoed loudly along the great hall and both Dipper and Pacifica realized a moment too late how they looked. The brunet still had an arm around the girl’s waist and one holding her wrist, not to mention she was pressed flush against him and he had the red mark of a slap on his cheek. Dipper felt a bit lightheaded at the whole situation and went even paler than he already was. 

“It’s not like th-“ he didn’t get to say more as Pacifica, probably in a fit of embarrassment herself, slapped him again before making her way down the stairs in a rush. He cringed at the pain, but he knew it was nothing compared to other wounds he had suffered through when searching the supernatural. It was probably the embarrassment of the whole situation that made it worse than anything else. He didn’t even have the will to glare at the girl who had slapped him, this time for no reason. Somehow despite the echoes of the great hall he couldn’t make out anything of what Pacifica was telling her parents. He could tell they looked displeased though but as they did not take any other action, he could only assume Pacifica had gotten both of them out of a pinch this time. He rubbed his cheek and made his way down the stairs to where Mabel was signalling him over, finding himself pulled to the side.

“Dipper, what did you do?” she asked him the moment she was sure they were out of the Northwest’s earshot. 

“I didn’t do anything!” he tried to defend himself. In truth he had done quite a few bad things since Mabel left him in the hall with Pacifica, but definitely not what they were thinking of. Suddenly, he felt a smack at the back of his head and was glad he had his mouth shut during it or his teeth might have clattered. Grunkle Stan really needed to mind his strength. 

“Couldn’t you have waited till the wedding night? It’s literally tomorrow, kid!” he lamented, trying to keep his voice down, and Dipper would have glared at him if he hadn’t felt as if the energy had been sucked out of him by this point. 

“Well, no matter.” Preston spoke before Grunkle Ford could even get near the small group that had formed around Dipper and the boy was almost grateful for that. He glanced at Pacifica as if that would tell him what excuse she had conjured for them. He couldn’t find his answers but her calm, albeit still icy, look was enough to tell him everything was alright. She averted her gaze not even a moment later though. “We should make our way to the rehearsal. No doubt Pastor Galswells is waiting for us by now.” And like that he turned around, signalling for them to follow him out the doors to where carriages were already waiting. “Come along.” 

Dipper was sure they were late. 

Ford didn’t miss the opportunity to give him a look that was worse than any of the hits he had just gotten, but made his way to the door all the same, Stan following after him. “Come on, Bro Bro, we don’t want to be late.” Dipper didn’t bother telling his sister they were already late according to the supposed schedule they had established, just sighing and following after her form. He was at the door when something red caught his eye just in the corner of his vision and he turned his head sharply in the direction of the wing he had been gnome hunting in. There was nothing there but he could feel himself shudder, paranoia taking over him as he looked around the corners of the great hall as if something might jump at him any moment now, something that was ready to catch him in its claws and not let him go till every breath of life belonged to it instead of him. 

“Dipper!” The yell made him jump and he looked to see it was only Stan who looked more than just a bit impatient now that they had gotten Mabel’s frills into the carriage. The presence Dipper had felt earlier was gone, or perhaps it was just hiding, but Dipper could still feel his heart trying to pound out of his chest as he flushed with embarrassment and made his way to the carriage without another word. The heavy door slammed closed behind him but the echo within the hall didn’t reach them.

They had a rehearsal to get to.

 

***** 

 

The carriage ride had been, thankfully, quiet and without incident for once. That was not to say it had been a comfortable silence. Mabel was no doubt wondering about what had happened back there and Stanley was likely brimming with questions all the same, but he would not bring them up since Ford seemed quite upset himself. For now they all seemed like they wanted to be through with the rehearsal. There’d surely be more than enough time for questions afterwards. Dipper could feel their eyes on him from the moment he stepped into the carriage. He wanted to squirm but found himself keeping as still as a statue and not daring to meet Ford’s eyes as the carriage went on its path. His heart was beating thunderously in his chest but it wasn’t from the anxiousness of the rehearsal or even from the harsh gazes of his family, it was all from that flash of red he had seen just before leaving the house. His heart wouldn’t slow down…every once in a while they’d pass by something red and Dipper could almost feel himself jumping out of his skin because of it before realizing it was nothing and just feeling embarrassed. He had already made enough of a fool out of himself for the day, the least he could do was try not to ruin the rest of it. The ride to the church seemed to take forever, but, finally, they arrived and Dipper had never been so happy to be able to get some fresh air into his lungs. He helped Mabel out of the carriage, careful not to catch her frills into anything. The girl was the complete opposite of him as she excitedly went inside and started speaking about how beautiful the wedding would be, admiring every little decoration that had been put into place and already making notes for more or for changing a colour here or there. 

Dipper just wanted it over with. 

Thankfully, it was just a rehearsal. 

It couldn’t possibly take more than half an hour, right?

Yes, it would take half an hour and then he’d have to go home…and answer more questions than he would care for regarding what had happened in the hall before returning to his room which he wasn’t even sure he could consider his own right now. Even so, just being away from the Northwests would give him some peace of mind so he’d take what he could get. Mister and misses Northwest got out of the carriage and easily followed his family inside. Dipper heard someone clearing their throat and turned to see Pacifica in the carriage. He furrowed his brows, as if he expected even getting close to it would be a deadly trap, but went over and offered her his assistance to get down from it regardless. Compared to earlier when it had been more like a quiet battle and both faced each other’s gaze head on, they seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes this time. Pacifica grabbed his hand and he led her down from the carriage, placing a hand on her waist to help her down easier and make sure her dress didn’t catch in anything. He almost offered her his left arm instead of his right but quickly corrected himself. She definitely noticed but said nothing about it. 

She took his arm and they both headed inside. 

It wasn’t that big of a church in truth, but it was a church nonetheless. Dipper kind of liked it, he liked the architecture and the way it was made, how little it was compared to other churches but still quite big compared to the houses around it. It was pretty nice, even if Dipper didn’t find himself to be the most religious of people, it was hard to be when the bible and texts about the church had so many mistakes when compared to facts and what Dipper knew about the supernatural. He did believe in the existence of higher beings and other such things, he believed in many things, just not in this specific type of God or perfect creature. Sure, he played around with a concept or another every once in a while but he didn’t believe in just one or exclude others because of it. His family generally wasn’t too religious, Stanley didn’t care for it, Stanford didn’t believe in it and Mabel just entertained the idea for holidays every once in a while but that was it. They held their respect for other religious people but did not find themselves as implicated with it as them. 

Even so, while the architecture was nicely done the church wasn’t much in itself. It was grey and Dipper could hear the soft echo of their steps as they walked. There were a few decorations that had already been put up, courtesy of Mabel, which were quite colourful and in stark contrast with the rest of the church. There weren’t any windows to the side but there was a big chandelier somewhere at the top, old candles sitting on it in their small holders. Dipper noticed there was a stained glass window right at the end of the walk though, standing above where the pastor was waiting for them in front of three slimmer windows that let in pale light. He was sure the stained glass was supposed to make up for that and look grand but it looked kind of pitiful there with its colours of blue, green and gold. They weren’t even strong colours and whatever light got through it barely seemed to even get to them, dissipating in the air. The interior of the church didn’t have much either, just the long benches set on each side and the table in front of them where the pastor had placed the candles, the wine and the bible, everything he needed for the ceremony and the rehearsal. If anything, the most interesting thing in the room was the pastor with his large stature, wiry frame and a nose that took up more than half of his face. He had a huge hump on his back but was still taller than all of them, the robes clinging to his frame in what would have been a hilarious fashion if it wasn’t from the deep frown imprinted on his brow. Mabel had instantly taken to talking to him, but Dipper had the feeling he did not take well to whatever compliment she had made him, just as he likely didn’t take well to them being late. 

He and Pacifica made their way inside quietly and their steps were actually in sync as they walked for a bit, though the brunet was sure his soon to be partner was as anxious and dreadful of all this as he was. He wasn’t going to apologize for what he had said to her on the staircase and she didn’t seem like she was about to apologize for what she had said either, but they both seemed to have a quiet agreement to let it in the past. Just as it happened back at the mansion, Dipper spotted something out of the corner of his eye but when he looked there was nothing. He didn’t stop walking, just keeping the pace Pacifica had since it was a slow one anyway, but he dared a few more looks around the grimy church. He spotted another stained glass window to their back where the entrance was, just briefly, but it was even smaller than the one in front of them and the colours seemed grimy and faded. It was somewhere around that time that he felt a tug at his arm and turned around just in time to grab Pacifica by the arm and steady her when she stumbled. “Are you alright?” he asked her and the girl nodded. Dipper followed her gaze to see her dress had caught in one of the benches, where it reached the floor. “Let me get that.” He told her quietly. She let go of his arm and he kneeled down to untangle the dress from where it had gotten caught up in the side of the bench. 

Pacifica wouldn’t say she was quite…comfortable with Dipper. She still didn’t like him and after what he had said she perhaps even hated him a little but she could tell he wasn’t a bad person. He hadn’t let her fall when she had been quite intent on hitting him again, he hadn’t taken advantage of her back there and, despite everything, he had still been kind enough to help her out of her carriage and lead her inside the church without any other comments. She didn’t like how he seemed to be distracted but she guessed he must have been paying some attention to her wellbeing if he had caught her so easily when she had stumbled just a moment ago. And now he was kneeling and taking the time to make sure the dress didn’t rip from where it had caught up in who know what. Maybe the benches were older than they looked. No, she didn’t like Dipper, but he was kind enough and perhaps he didn’t deserve what she had said to him back on the staircase…”Thank you.” She said once he was done and dusting himself off as he got up. Her tone was still indifferent but Dipper didn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re welcome.” He said in return and made his way back to her side. She took his arm without complaint and they made their way forward. It wasn’t obvious, but Pacifica noticed it nonetheless when Dipper started walking a bit more to the left so she could have a bit more distance between her dress and the old benches. It was appreciated. 

“You’re late!” The pastor boomed when they had made it to the front and everyone else was taking their seats. Had it been any other situation Dipper would have liked to make some dry remark upon that but as it was he was better off holding his tongue. An apology would have definitely been the obvious answer but both Dipper and Pacifica were sure their guardians had already done that. When they were about to speak, pastor Galswells brought his cane onto the church floor sharply and both of them had to hold back on cringing from the sound. “No matter, let us begin!” And in a turn of flowing robes – which seemed like a fire hazard in Dipper’s humble opinion – the pastor made his way behind the table. 

“Talk about impatient.” Pacifica muttered as the pastor had their back turned to them. 

“We are late though.” Pacifica gave him a glare for that but it barely had any bite to it, just like Mabel’s when she was pouting. 

The old man gestured for them to step forward and for a moment they both hesitated. Somehow the man’s frown deepened and the couple seemed to find their will at the same time as they stepped forward towards the table. For a while things seemed to go well, so well that it was downright boring. Dipper could almost spot Mabel to the side between wanting to pay attention and wanting to doze off at the man’s droning voice. Dipper found it just as boring and had tuned it out somewhere at the beginning, not quite caring about what he said. He was sure he had heard it before at a wedding or another anyhow, this wouldn’t be any different. He wasn’t sure at which point exactly, probably because he had blocked the man’s voice out, but he could swear he heard a piano. More so, he could swear it was the piano from earlier, the sounds pure and high, then low, then soft and gentle and then harsher…but there was no piano there. There wasn’t any piano, nor anyone to play it. Mabel was a better singer, Ford hadn’t had the chance to learn when little and Stanley didn’t have that much of an interest in music, Dipper didn’t assume the Northwests knew how to play the piano simply because the one he had found had been in horrible shape. He couldn’t accept that someone who knew how to play it would leave the instrument in conditions bad enough for it to look so desolate when he found it.

And still the sounds were vivid in his mind…and then it stopped suddenly, with that horrible sound it had made when he had cut off the song in a moment of surprise, and his head was pounding. 

“Mister Pines!” The voice in front of him almost holered and Dipper flinched as if just brought back from somewhere far away. The pastor was glaring at him and Dipper knew that tone and glare well: the man had been calling for him for a while now and this was probably his third or fourth time doing so.

“Y-yes?” He caught Pacifica’s expression from the side. If she could have done it without being too obvious she would have shaken her head in dismay.

“Your vows.” The pastor demanded impatiently, then took a candle from the table and handed it to him. Pacifica had already lit hers up. Biting the inside of his cheek, Dipper took the candle with a quiet ‘Thank you, sir’ and leaned over to light it from the candle on the table before him. It didn’t seem to catch fire though…and after several times he wasn’t the only one getting impatient with it. He didn’t know why but it just wouldn’t. As soon as he pulled it away it’d go out or he’d find the flame hadn’t even stayed in place. Finally, after what seemed like, and probably were way too many tries, he managed to pull it back with a flame…and a gust of wind from the door put it out just a moment later, swinging the door open almost aggressively. The sky had darkened considerably and Dipper could only assume a storm was coming but instead of being worried about that, he was more concerned with the candle which was once again without a flame. Stan had closed the door so the wind would stay out. He gestured them to continue and Dipper grinded his teeth a bit before he had to lean forward and try to light the blasted thing once again. 

Thankfully, Pacifica grabbed his wrist and lit his candle with her own on the first try, sparing him the grinding process of lighting his candle from the small flicker of the one on the table. “Thank you.” He told her quietly and she gave him a small nod in return. 

“Continue.” The pastor told them, seeming more impatient then earlier. His eye was twitching almost comically.

“Certainly.” He answered and put his hand up, taking a breath. He just had to get this over with…”With this hand, I sh-“ the pastor’s cane hit the ground roughly and Dipper cringed as his head just pounded harder with the noise. 

“Right!” The man ordered and Dipper just looked confused. 

“Right?”

The repetition came with what was possibly an innocence bordering on stupidity because the pastor seemed to get even more aggravated. “Right!” he repeated and Dipper realized he was holding the candle in the wrong hand. He quickly rectified that, almost dropping the blasted thing. He didn’t drop it, but the flame did go out just as well. The pastor’s eye twitched. Pacifica leaned in just enough to light it again, but Dipper didn’t have the courage to thank her for the second time when the pastor looked like he was about to use his cane to take his eyes out of their sockets if he didn’t continue on with his vows by this point. 

“Right.” Dipper gulped and held back from pulling at his tie. “With this hand,” he offered Pacifica his right hand and she took it daintily. They started walking forward. “I will li-“ The table clattered loudly as Pacifica’s dress pushed against the side of it on the first step, almost making the wine spill and the candle fall. The pastor barely caught the candle before it did so. 

“Three steps!” he scolded. “Three! Can you not count?” he glared at Pacifica and Dipper noticed she was a bit embarrassed, though she stood tall and tried not to let it show. 

For a moment she seemed as if she was about to apologize, but Dipper gave her hand a squeeze and spoke before she could. “We’ll try it again.” He said simply, putting the pastor’s attention back on him. It was one thing to pick on him when he was wrong but it wasn’t right for this man to pick on Pacifica when she had made a mistake without meaning to. Plus, she was in sync with him, they had taken two steps and still had to do the third, but the dress did have a big kind of quality to it where it flared out and hence had to be minded. It was a beautiful dress, but the space wasn’t as big as it should have been to accommodate it. The girl gave Dipper an almost grateful look and they backed away, a bit more than before. 

“That’s too way far.” The pastor scolded. 

“It’s easier if we start from here.” Dipper told him, as calmly as he could, but the man was stubborn in his ways.

“No. Come closer.” 

The boy was about to retort again when his grunkle spoke. 

“Just move closer, kid.” 

Begrudgingly, Dipper led Pacifica a bit closer to the table but still not as close as before. The pastor glared him down and Dipper met his gaze head on. Finally, it seemed as if they could continue, even if the old man didn’t look pleased with this new arrangement. Dipper heard Mabel sigh somewhere in the background. Letting go of Pacifica’s hand again, he started on with the vows. “With this hand,” he once again offered his hand to his bride to be and she took it. They started walking forward. “I will lift your sorrows.” This time they made it through with three steps but Dipper didn’t fail to notice how Pacifica’s steps were much smaller than his and he had to keep back from making a bigger step at the end to be next to her. He was about to continue, when the pastor cut him off. 

“You’re not close enough!” 

Did this man intend on getting them wed or not? 

Pacifica flushed a little, knowing that it was her fault they were not close enough but any closer and she’d manage to push against the table again and probably make something fall. “Do you no-“ 

This time it was Dipper’s turn to cut the man off, a bit brusquely. “Do you want us to flip the table and start a fire or do you want us to continue with the vows from a distance which doesn’t involve setting your robes aflame?” There was a sound which could have only been Stan bringing a hand to his forehead and dragging it over his face. He had the feeling the man was regretting teaching him to question any and all authority except for Ford and sometimes himself. Dipper also didn’t doubt that the Northwests looked quite appalled right then and there were two sighs which were definitely from Mabel and great uncle Ford, but Mabel also seemed to be holding herself back from giggling, which she tried to cover up with a small cough. Pacifica herself looked surprised but Dipper would have noticed a small smile on her lips if he hadn’t had his brown eyes locked with the pastor’s grey ones. With the way the man was grinding his teeth Dipper was surprised he still had any. 

“Continue.” He ground out just barely. 

Where had they left off? Dipper seemed lost for a bit. “Your cup,” Pacifica prompted, getting a warning glare from the pastor. 

Dipper cleared his voice.

“Your cup will never empty, for I” And suddenly the voices of the people around him drowned in music and he couldn’t think straight. He blinked to get himself out of his daze. There was no piano there. There were no red stained glasses, not even gold, just a very faded yellow patch in one that didn’t count. There was nothing of the sort there, so what was wrong with him? “for I will be…” There was one word, what was it? He knew it just a moment earlier. What was it? Pacifica almost looked worried. A cough came from the ‘audience’ and took some of the attention off of him, which Dipper could only assume was Mabel’s way to get him out of whatever stump he was in. 

“Try again.”

Dipper’s mind was still spinning so he only nodded towards the pastor, forcing himself to remember whatever the words were. “Your cup will never empty, for” the words seemed to get harder to remember the more he went on, just as the notes in his mind became louder and clearer. He tried pushing them away. “For I will be your wine.” He finished, perhaps a bit too quickly but no one really seemed to notice. “With this…this…” What was next? The tune in his mind came to a sharp end but he found himself cringing from that as much as from the physical hit of the cane over his head instead of against the floor. And damn it hurt, but swearing in a church wasn’t really something one should do. “Ow!” 

“Pay attention!”

He glared but without much bite, rubbing the spot on his head the man had hit. He had been paying attention, there was just something in his mind that wasn’t letting him keep it and he was starting to worry. Was it just him not wanting to get married? Was the song just stuck in his head? It was too vivid for that and he had never had this problem before. Could some creature have been in that dusty room before he left? Could it have been cursed? Maybe a ghost? The Northwests were rich, maybe they had had help with that or maybe some ghost was actually bitter towards them, maybe both. Still, he couldn’t just excuse himself to search for what was possibly an imaginary ghost, not while at the rehearsal of his own wedding – which just seemed to be getting worse and worse. In the end they moved to having Pacifica say her vows. If the groom couldn’t say his they figured they should at least see if the bride knew hers. 

Dipper at least expected that Pacifica would know hers so that would lessen the tense atmosphere a bit, but as it happened she had her own stumbles through them like a child who hadn’t learnt her lesson in time. It wasn’t that Pacifica hadn’t heard them before or didn’t practice them before all this but…she might have been a bit mad at her parents and as a sort of petty revenge refused to really go through them. She had mostly done it without thinking because she thought that she could aggravate her soon to be groom enough that he may call this off, but now that she thought about it the plan was awful. She stumbled somewhere through the first lines of her vows and anxiety bubbled up, not from the look the pastor was giving her but from the way she expected that sound she knew so well to go through the air soon. 

It did.

Somewhere along the second time when she messed up, she heard the bell and felt her whole body stiffen. “Pacifica, concentrate.” Her father instructed and she gave him a nod, feeling flushed with both embarrassment and anxiety. 

Dipper wasn’t feeling too well either and his head was still pounding, but even he could see that Pacifica wasn’t comfortable as she tried to say her vows again. The rest of the session seemed to go like that with both of them somehow stumbling over their vows, the pastor’s eye twitching as he repeated the vows for both of them to hear and that blasted bell sound. Pacifica just seemed to get worse with her vows whenever hearing it rather than better and while Dipper had stopped noticing that because his own mind was not letting him be, he could agree that it was annoying. He heard Mabel groan somewhere in the background. 

Another bell sound came. 

“Could you please stop that?” Dipper finally snapped towards Preston, head pounding too harshly for him to care for courtesies. The bell tingled one more time before Preston stopped it but that seemed enough to set off the other twin.

Mabel marched over and took the bell.

“No.” She said strictly, holding the bell away from the man. “Wedding proceedings are to be quiet! No bells, neither today, nor tomorrow.” She said and looked as if she was scolding the man for a moment as a mother would a child, which got her a raised eyebrow. Mabel took the bell with her as she returned to her seat and placed it to the side before gesturing for them to continue. 

The lack of the bell had Pacifica relaxing enough to actually get her vows right but somehow Dipper kept screwing his own up, which was peculiar. The Northwests could have thought him stupid or just insulting but his family knew Dipper could memorize those lines even in his sleep if he wanted to. They knew that so it could only mean that either Dipper wasn’t feeling well or was doing it on purpose, the latter seeming more believable after everything that had happened. It only seemed to fuel whatever irritation was already bubbling towards the boy’s actions that day. Even so, the rehearsal went on and, somehow, they managed to make it worse. 

The wind outside bellowed again when Pacifica was pouring the wine and they spilled it all over the place, on some of the table cloth, on Dipper’s pant suit and on Pacifica’s dress. Any other time they would have stopped to get changed but the wedding was tomorrow, it was getting late and the stain wasn’t that bad. Since the dress was stained on the black side and Dipper’s suit was black to begin with, it wasn’t even a big deal compared to the white table cloth. It was probably somewhere around the time when they were both too tired to keep their steps different from the usual that Pacifica accidentally bumped into the table once again. Dipper pulled her back a bit too suddenly to avoid damage and they somehow managed to make the table fall along with the candle. Dipper’s earlier thought about the robes being a fire hazard proved true and for a good moment the pope caught on fire and everything was in disarray till both he and Pacifica grabbed the remaining wine and doused the pope in it. 

The man did not look happy…at all. 

And so they now found themselves in front of the table which had been placed back up, wine gone, the cups on the table empty, the candles present but not lit and the pope looking like a half burnt alley cat with water issues…And the vows still somehow got screwed up. “Have you even remembered to bring the ring?” the man asked, eyes narrowing and twitching dangerously. Dipper wondered if it was possible for it to twitch so much that his eye would come out. Probably not or it would have happened by then. 

“The ring?” The word almost didn’t hold meaning for him but he caught it soon enough and Pacifica looked at him expectantly. “Yes. Of course.” He had the ring, Mabel had placed it in the inner pocket of his coat yesterday, hadn’t she? Somewhere in the back Mabel was giving Stanley and Stanford an ‘okay’ sign as Dipper reached into his coat for the little piece of jewellery. He fumbled for a bit trying to find it…and continued fumbling. To his horror he realized he couldn’t feel the metal underneath his fingertips. There was nothing in his pocket. It was then that it occurred to him that he had changed his coat that very day because he had gotten it dirty with coal and ink. The boy couldn’t have looked paler if he tried; he probably looked paler than the dead. 

“Dipper,” Pacifica spoke and her words were almost warm. “You have the ring, right?” But the concern in them was still there. They had both ruined the rehearsal more than they thought possible and they may have had each other’s backs during it just enough to actually gain some liking to the other but ruining it further was not an option. And not having the ring might as well spell their dying wish by this point. 

“No.”

And as soon as that word rang through the church a chair fell down and Mabel’s high heels resounded against the floor as she stalked over. “What do you mean ‘no’!?” she yelled almost shrilly through the church before the pastor even had the chance to. In truth, the pastor’s eye was twitching uncontrollably and he wasn’t moving which was a bit worrying. Mabel grabbed her brother and turned him around without waiting for an answer, looking through his coat pockets herself. “I made sure you had it yesterday! How could you have forgotten it!?” She seemed quite taken aback and shocked and Dipper couldn’t blame her. Everyone was high strung after hours of rehearsal gone bad, an almost fire and enough ill omen for the wedding that even a disbeliever could see it wasn’t meant to be. 

“I…” Dipper had to swallow down his nerves, knowing Mabel would hate him for this. “I had to change my cloak earlier, I got coal on it.” For one moment Mabel just stared at him in pure disbelief, remembering the gentle teasing comment she had made about it just that day. If anything, the only one not holding it against him right then was Pacifica simply because she was just as tired of everything as he was and also because, just like Dipper, she was the only other person in the room who did not want this wedding to happen. 

“Enough!” This time pastor Galswells’s voice boomed so loudly off of the walls that all of them flinched, thunder roaring outside to accompany him as he made his way between Mabel and Dipper, pulling the girl away and settling his gaze down on the two that were to be wed. “These two do not want to be married!” he roared, grey eyes looking down on them almost threateningly. By this point both of them just wanted to approve his statement and get out of there but they both had enough experience with such temperaments to know that was not the right thing to say or do in this situation, so instead they both just stood there and found themselves feeling guilty for something they had known even before the rehearsal began. “This wedding cannot take place until they are properly prepared.” He declared and the thunder roared again somewhere in the background. “Learn your vows.” The words were pressed and they almost prickled the two with how they were said. They both nodded, almost dumbly, not daring to move from that cutting gaze though Dipper could also feel anger bubble up somewhere in his heart along with guilt and fear. It wasn’t that he feared this man as much as he feared what his words would bring once they were out of the church. 

For a moment no one moved and everything was still, rain starting to rap at the windows. 

“Perhaps we should retire to the mansion for now.” Preston said finally, getting up from his seat with his wife at his arm. “Pacifica and her betrothed can go rehearse their vows in private while we deal with the mess of having to postpone.” His voice was just as cutting as the pastor’s and Pacifica averted her gaze to the floor while Dipper did his best not to meet the gazes of his own guardians. 

“It sounds like a good idea.” Stanford agreed, getting up from where he had been seated for the past few hours. A signal from Preston and the butler they had brought along went to get them carriages. Three, to be exact. The atmosphere was tense. The pastor moved in a flurry of burnt robes, trying to assess the damage brought to his poor church and perhaps Pacifica and Dipper would have felt a bit happy with the damage they had caused to the old man after everything, but they hardly dared breathe at this point less they attract the attention of their families. Preston retrieved his bell and Dipper felt the girl’s grip tighten on his arm. Finally, the carriages arrived and everyone started making their way outside. Dipper didn’t need to be told he would be the only one heading home. They had said they would rehearse privately and meet again for a proper rehearsal at some point after things had been cleared up and the wedding postponed. Surely with how things had gone both families felt the need to apologize to each other for their respective charges. Dipper hated that thought. Their guardians went ahead, lastly followed by Mabel and then by Dipper and Pacifica. 

“I’m sorry about today.” The girl whispered to him as they headed out.

Dipper sighed softly. “I’m sorry as well. It wasn’t your fault earlier.”

She nodded then stopped. Dipper looked over and then followed her gaze. He found himself smiling just a bit as she let go of his arm and he went to one knee to undo the dress from where it had caught up in an old bench once again, the same one from before. She had been holding onto his left arm. He undid the dress from where it was caught and returned to her side. 

“Thank you.” She was wearing a feeble little smile which he returned. 

“You’re welcome.”

The jingle of a bell made Pacifica jump just as Stanley’s loud voice made Dipper flinch right after. “Hurry up!”

When they made it out of the church it was pouring and Dipper quickly helped Pacifica get into her carriage, not caring that much for the rain. If anything, it was actually a blessing after everything. It felt cool on his skin and the sound helped him clear his mind. He got into his own carriage not long after and closed the door. No sooner had he done that that the carriage started on its way to his house while the other two started towards the mansion. Sighing deeply, the boy slumped in his seat. His head was pounding again and he couldn’t be bothered to even try finding a reason. The journey went on for about five minutes before Dipper called the carriage to a stop and got off. With the storm still going strong and coming down with big drops of water the man leading the carriage went away as soon as the boy was out and the door was closed, leaving Dipper in the rain. 

 

***** 

 

The loud drops of rain didn’t echo as they fell to the ground, nor did they clink or cling, they didn’t make any sound akin to music and yet they were music in themselves as they fell down to their strange rhythm in puddles and rivers, making little streams of water through the gravel and stone, among the mud and bricks of the town. It actually gave Dipper some peace to be out in it and have it ringing in his ears along with the occasional thunder that would strike down so suddenly and harshly one feared it might hit them. The raindrops poured down his face and onto his rumpled and stained suit, completely soaking him to the bone, letting the chill of the air make its way into his skin and bones. He didn’t mind it though, he almost enjoyed it. After being continuously surrounded by grey and the cold interiors of the mansion and church, met with gazes as cold as marble while the only warmth came burning whenever the dimly lit candle dripped some wax on his hand, it was actually a relief for the cold to finally seep into his bones. Perhaps this way he’d actually get a headache from a cold and not from those notes vividly playing in his mind. He loved the song but right then he was starting to dread it almost as much as he dreaded its end. 

His hair became soaking wet even before his suit and it was hard to see with it in his eyes. Dipper moved his bangs just enough for them not to hinder his vision but so they would still cover his forehead as he made his way down the street. The centre of the town was empty, everyone had gone inside to take shelter from the storm and hide from the cold. Dipper didn’t care about being soaked to the skin or ruining his suit further though, he was already a mess and he wanted to enjoy what peace he could before he got home and met with his family again. He loved them but right then he wanted nothing more than to not see them for the rest of his life, he just wanted the earth to swallow him whole. At least they wouldn’t be home for a while so if he wandered off they wouldn’t look for him till they returned…maybe even then they might just assume he went to bed and leave him in peace so he could just return at about any hour without them having noticed his disappearance. They barely noticed most of the time, not for lack of interest but because they were always busy with their own occupations, scheming people, going to socials, researching and so on.

Thinking of how the day went made him not want to return at all. 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know his vows! He knew them as well as anyone else, even better! They were easy as much as they were mushy and impossible. Really, who expected their beloved to lift their sorrows with one hand? Sadness didn’t go away with a caress, just as you couldn’t actually drink someone else, metaphors be damned because one would get a bit bored of the other at some point…well, most of the time. There were some people you just couldn’t get enough of, but what were the chances you could find someone like that? And a candle? How would you even light someone’s way with a candle? That was just biblical nonsense when it came down to it, a lamp was better. The last lines of the vows were the only ones that made any sense and even then Dipper couldn’t help but think of them critically and spitefully. In truth, he was probably just as much of a hopeless romantic as Mabel was, completely besotted with the idea of love, but much more disbelieving in its existence. If two people were made for each other why did they have to ask for the other? Shouldn’t there just be something they felt that told them they belonged together? Shouldn’t asking be something linked only to society and everyone else’s expectations rather than the two’s actual relationship? It wasn’t like his grunkles were married or anything but they were the two most caring people Dipper had ever seen when it came to one another – though Ford was an absolute mess at actually reading other people’s reactions – even Stanley’s – and sometimes needed hints or to be told directly. It was a good thing Stanley had no holdbacks in that.

Dipper sighed in exasperation and made his way out of the town and towards the stone bridge. The bridge’s stones were wet and cold, but as firm as ever, and Dipper ran his hand over them as he walked. Then there was Pacifica. The brunet was still sour about what she had said to him but he could at least admit he was a bit fond of her after they had somehow survived that horrible rehearsal together. In the end there was no better way to bring two people together than putting them in a horrible situation. In a way he was almost thankful she had had her own problems and hadn’t known her vows because if the whole blame fell on him he wasn’t sure how he would have been able to survive his family’s chastising later on or deal with ever showing his face in public. Actually, he wasn’t sure how to deal with either of those even so but he was trying to push such matters to the recesses of his mind the best he could. He knew that as soon as this storm passed he’d hear the man ring the bell and yell the news, yell about the complete failure of the rehearsal and about the wedding’s postponement like there was no tomorrow – which technically was true in the sense that the wedding would not be held tomorrow any longer, if at all. He assumed that the Northwest family still wanted to hold the wedding, merely because they had invited most of his family over to discuss postponing it but he couldn’t be certain. Pacifica may have had her own blame but who could say if they wouldn’t just push all of it onto him? He passingly wondered if they’d mention them setting the pastor on fire in the news or if that would be looked over. Probably the latter, couldn’t have his sanctity’s robes be dishonoured by some fire and wine, however ‘purifying’ fire was and however ‘good for the soul’ wine was said to be. 

Walking over the bridge was like crossing into another world, mostly because Dipper knew that the supernatural mostly dwelled in the forest. Who knew if he could even come to it again after the marriage? This whole walk in itself was starting to be unpleasant but he was ignoring it. He felt his shoes sink into the mud and tried his best to keep to stones and pathways he knew, the last thing he wanted was to get one shoe stuck in the mud and not be able to get it out. Even so he got the lower part of his pants dirty with mud while walking and his shoes were definitely a mess. If Ford asked he was fully intent on lying that he got chased by a creature or another, he could figure out the details when he walked home. The cold seeping through his coat wasn’t really all that pleasant anymore either and he wouldn’t have been surprised if he was shaking from it but he ignored it and went further on into the forest. It was completely bare of creatures though the floor of it was full of mud, dead leaves and various plants – if you knew where to look you’d notice random knick knacks left by the supernatural as well. A stroke of thunder came down from above and Dipper shuddered despite himself. In the end he dug his hands into his pockets to keep out the cold from them even if it was likely useless and they were as icy as a corpse’s by then. They were a bit numb as well but he hadn’t quite lost the feeling in them. Even so, he wondered if perhaps he had and was hallucinating for just a moment as he stopped dead in his tracks and let the rain pour over him from the leaves of the trees. He felt in his pants pocket again and caught the piece of metal there in his hand, bringing it out into the darkness to look at it. His eyes had gotten used to the darkness by now, just enough to somewhat see in it. He pushed back his bangs, knowing that there was no creature that would be out in this weather and surely no human that would be out at all, especially here, so it didn’t matter if his birthmark was exposed. 

Truly, a small wedding band was resting in his hand when he brought it out of his pocket, looking as innocent as the first snow while it laid in his hand and was battered down by raindrops. For a few moments he couldn’t believe it. He started turning the little piece of jewellery in his hand as if to convince himself and once again took to making steps forward, but didn’t even bother to look at the mud at his feet anymore though he could feel it pulling at his shoes. 

Finally, he came to a halt just as suddenly as the rain seemed to stop. He was dripping wet and the ring was still in his hand, as wet as he was. 

“I’m such an idiot!” he lamented loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and then pushing his hair back once again, almost pulling at it, when it came dripping on his face. How could he be so stupid? He had put it in his pants pocket the night before after Mabel had made sure to put it in his coat because he had thought it safer there. He had had the ring all along and had forgot where it was. All because of that stupid piano melody going through his mind, the one that was now starting to play from the very beginning all over again. He wasn’t even sure if it was because he had thought of it or because it had come unbidden to take over his mind and better thinking like it had in the church but he had had enough of it. “Would you stop that!?” he shouted at nobody in particular but he knew no one would hear, not really.

The song stopped. 

Dipper sighed. 

“Thank you.” The words were addressed at air or they might as well have been, but Dipper wasn’t silly enough to talk to himself – unless he was really stressed and possibly hyperventilating. He knew the rain hadn’t stopped because the storm had gone away, he knew the ground wasn’t solid here for no reason, he knew exactly where he was. It was a patch of land somewhere in the forest, Dipper could probably place it on the map but couldn’t explain how it existed because everyone who tried getting there seemed to go right through it, the creatures of the forest, Mabel, Grunkle Stan, great uncle Ford…everyone except for him. Dipper had ran into this place by accident when he was twelve years old and running from one of the more scary creatures of the forest. He had ran and ran till he had gotten to this place and fallen, he had found himself unable to continue running but the creature had found itself unable to find him, see him or catch his scent. He had seen it look around and try to sniff him out, seen it getting close and looking at nothing in particular before, finally, retreating. 

The place wasn’t a big deal in itself. 

It was just a spot in the forest like any other, a clearing with dead grass, trees, pines and a few weird branches and bushes here and there near what looked to be the stump of what once was a grand tree. What was different was the presence there. Dipper had never found out what it was – or, better said, who it was – but he could feel it whenever he came to the place, it was something that came in the wind and was all around, something that was in everything and nothing around him, embedded in the essence of the place. It sent chills down his spine and made goose bumps rise on his flesh whenever he came near in the beginning. It had been pretty scary at first, but he was never really harmed. In truth he had not wanted to return to this place after his first ‘visit’ because it had scared him but back then he had also been so scared to leave that he wasn’t sure he wanted to. In the end, most of his expeditions had somehow ended up in danger and if it wasn’t for this place he knew he’d be dead over a thousand times by now. 

Whenever something happened which he couldn’t control, whenever something chased him, whenever he wanted to disappear he could just run to this place. 

The presence there had been pretty cold at first but it somehow seemed to have warmed up to him with time, or so he’d like to think. There was no way to actually communicate with whatever was there. He had tried. He had tried writing, he had tried speaking, he had tried ciphers and runes and old languages, even some words in foreign contemporary languages. All he had found out was that this presence could understand what he wrote and said, see and hear – maybe feel? – everything he did in that space, but couldn’t answer him except for the subtle changes in the air and atmosphere around him. Dipper had had to learn to read them as time went on. In a way it was like having an imaginary friend, a very strange one at that, and trying to read its moods. He had learnt a few things about the place except for that as well. He knew that weather changes didn’t reach this place, there could be a storm like the one roaring with thunder right now or there could be a pile of snow up to his knees on the ground but this place was always in a perpetual state of late autumn with dead leaves and grass, solid ground and green pines. He knew that if he changed anything it’d be changed back soon after or by his next visit, but if he left something there he would find it just as he left it. He knew no one could hear anything beyond the barrier of the place and just where the barrier begun. He knew because he had tried calling to his great uncle Ford when he was somewhat nearby researching and had found out Ford couldn’t hear him unless he stepped over the barrier. Actually, one couldn’t even see inside until they stepped into the place but no one seemed to be able to step into it, just over it. They’d put one step forward and find themselves on the other side of the shield instead…and they wouldn’t even know it.

It was a safe place.

It did strike Dipper as a weird area, but everything was weird in the forest and he liked having the place to himself. What did strike him as strange was that great uncle Ford couldn’t get to it. Not because the man had been studying the supernatural for far longer or because he had probably crossed that place a million times before – Dipper was sure other creatures had done the same, supernatural ones at that – but because somewhere around his seventh time coming to the place Dipper had looked around and found a small triangle engraved on a rock that seemed to be stuck to the earth. It was scratched in it and had a circle around with different sorts of symbols Dipper hadn’t ever seen before. Perhaps he was just making assumptions because the whole of the Mystery Shack and their house was covered in triangle imagery, but he almost expected Ford to have placed that one there as well. He had tried pulling it out to see if he could but he never managed and just gave up after a while. It didn’t really count though, it was enough for that to be there for him to label it as a safe place.

It was a safe place, just like his room. 

Taking a few more steps forward, Dipper found that his legs hurt and that his body was more tired than he would have thought. He let himself fall onto the stump of the tree, as always, and closed his eyes for a moment. How could he have been so stupid as to forget he had the ring? How could he have screwed everything up so horribly? They were just some stupid vows! He opened his eyes and looked up where the clearing let the moon shine through. Today was a full moon. That actually changed normally in this place at least, but Dipper had learnt with time that the presence there preferred specific times of the moon, it was happier at about the third or seventh day of a month, the new moon and the full moon were always favourites and there were a bunch of others he had noted down in an agenda in his room with some matching moods, locking it up in a hidden cabinet under his drawer. The presence around him felt calm and ephemeral. 

At least someone was in a good mood.

For a few moments he just stood, letting himself calm down but instead he only felt himself becoming more stressed every time he looked at the accusing piece of jewellery in his hand. How had it even come to this? “It’s not fair, human vows don’t even make sense!” he grumbled, getting up but the energy of the place didn’t answer at all. He didn’t tend to speak to himself when alone but he knew he wasn’t alone right then…”And because of that stupid melody I couldn’t even concentrate!” It was a good memory but it could have been a choir or a Russian ballet, Dipper couldn’t have cared for it right then. The energy shifted just a bit and Dipper almost laughed as he instinctively knew what it meant. “What, you’re curious about them now?” he asked back and the energy remained the same. “How about I give you a recital, just for you? I’ll even kneel.” he said and the tone was almost sarcastic. He wasn’t sure he had enough energy to really be sarcastic right then. He was sure that after living with his grunkles he had gained some sort of inner sarcasm he couldn’t get rid of though. They just had that sense of humour – except perhaps Mabel, she had her own kind which involved lots of colours and compliments.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. 

The energy around him remained still. 

Dipper brought his right hand up, holding the ring in his left for now. “With this hand, I shall lift your sorrows.” The energy shifted a bit in what Dipper assumed was curiosity and interest. He would know after nine whole years of escaping to this place. It was a bit amusing to find it interested in such petty human affairs, usually it was hard to gain its interest – true interest – with almost anything. “Your cup will never empty, for I shall be your wine.” He continued, pretending he was holding a cup for a moment. He walked around the clearing for a bit and let himself play with a branch he had ripped off more times than he could count by now and had always grown back when he returned. His voice wasn’t loud, it was probably a bit quiet by then because of the cold air and its continuous use that day, but he knew he didn’t need to talk loudly to be heard, it heard everything in its space…

The branch came off with a crack. 

“With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.” Dipper sighed as he looked at the ‘candle’ but everything was still…maybe the energy had gotten bored? No, he could still feel it all around, if anything it was a bit…pressuring. And he could still feel the faint amusement somewhere in the thin air around him along the wavering light of the moon. For a moment he said nothing and instead lifted the branch he had ripped off to hold the tip in the moonlight. He let the branch fall nearby and once again took the ring in his right hand, twirling it between his fingers. His brown eyes travelled around the moonlit clearing, searching for something, and stopped near the trunk of the tree where a few peculiar wood formations sprouted out of the earth. Dipper knew them well for he’d often let his hand fidget with them while he read there or simply spent some time drawing. He had a lot of drawings of the place when he thought back to it…He walked towards the stump, letting the moonlight shroud him in its light, and knelt down in front of the strange wooden forms. Were they always so skinny? And did it always look like a hand? Yes, it probably did, Dipper remembered thinking them weird before when drawing them. He stopped playing with the ring and brought it up.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine…”

His heartbeat quickened for a moment but nothing happened. Of course, nothing needed to happen after all. Perhaps he just expected to feel amusement around him but instead he felt…nothing.

Dipper furrowed his brows.

That wasn’t right. He needed to feel something even if just the presence. There couldn’t just be…nothing.

Maybe he was just tired. 

Maybe the presence was playing tricks on him – a cruel joke perhaps?

For a few moment he didn’t move from where he had knelt down but as the feeling of emptiness prolonged itself it started to plague him. 

“What else do you want? A kiss on the cheek?”

Drip…

The boy looked over his shoulder so quickly he almost got whiplash. There couldn’t be water there. There couldn’t be rain there. This was his safe place and nothing from the outside world got there…so how come it was starting to rain inside? Not only couldn’t rain get in there but neither could other creatures. For all of the nine years Dipper had spent in there he had never seen so much as a bug in the grass not to mention anything like a bird, but as his eyes travelled up he saw that the branches were suddenly heavy with crows. Dipper felt his throat go dry. 

Something was terribly wrong.

And before he could think of anything else something grabbed at his arm and started pulling him harshly towards the ground. Suddenly the crows were all around, screaming in his ears with terror. The boy screamed as well when he was pulled almost to the shoulder into the cold ground before he found the strength to even start pulling back. Even then the grip on his arm was tight and wouldn’t let go. He had to actually put in a surprising amount of strength to get away and found himself tumbling back and onto the ground, something still stuck to his arm as his body fell unceremoniously in now wet, dead grass. When he finally looked towards his arm, dizzy from the hit he had taken when falling, he saw a skeletal hand which bore the ring he had placed on the branch just a moment earlier. He felt as if he had just gulped down his voice while trying to find it and quickly brought his other hand to pull the grim thing away and throw it even further off before it continued crawling on him. He didn’t manage to throw it off too far and could see it whittle on the ground, moving as if to grasp something…Dread piled up along with a sense of déjà vu from that one time he had summoned up zombies. 

This couldn’t be good…

He had to get out of there. 

“Actually, I expect a kiss on the lips.” 

The voice was honeyed and deep with a playful banter to it and any other time Dipper would have felt his knees go weak but right then it only made his skin crawl and his heart beat painfully in his chest. Dipper turned to see a man – a zombie? – with the overcast moonlight behind him. Clouds were starting to cover the full moon and let more rain fall onto the battered ground and its old rocks. It made it hard to make out the man’s features, though Dipper’s absolute terror and fight or flight instincts might have also had something to do with him being unable to actually take a proper look at the being in front of him. 

What he could tell, however, was that the man was definitely not human. He wore a black suit with yellow buttons and dress shoes, but what stood out were the very visible ribs. They weren’t visible in the sense that the man was skinny – though he was certainly both tall and skinny – but in the sense that they were right outside of his body and there was definitely a hole in his stomach that revealed his spine if you bothered to look. One of his sleeves fluttered in the wind with nothing inside where the skeletal arm was missing from the elbow down and the other hand looked pale. Actually, he was very pale, pale like death with a grin that split his face and cheeks that seemed to have the skin slightly peeled off of them to the point that you could see muscle underneath on the left side of his face. 

Dipper ran.

He ran and stumbled and almost fell several times in his haste. He barely seemed to be making progress though, the more he ran the deeper the forest seemed to swallow him. The rain was now back to being torrential and beating down on him and the forest in a merciless drumming of anger, making it hard to see and even harder to move without slipping. The trees seemed to have eyes of their own and Dipper swore at one point that they really did, but quickly pushed the thought away. At one point the ground went down and despite his best efforts he slipped in the mud and fell. He groaned and pushed his tired muscles so he could get up but stopped short, eyes wide. He was facing a tree…No, he was facing an eye…in the bark of a tree. Had it been any other situation perhaps he would have had the voice to scream but he had lost it somewhere in the clearing. And he could feel it, feel that presence he knew so well tingling down his skin, around him, all over the place. He pushed himself up as if he had been burned and found himself surrounded by eyes from all around. Everywhere he looked there were eyes on the trees and he felt like he was going to be sick.

He ran. 

Time seemed to become irrelevant and inexistent in the rain and Dipper wasn’t sure for how long he ran and pushed against his aching muscles before he reached the stone bridge and finally stopped. His breath was coming out in shallow pants and his throat hurt. He turned around to look behind him as if the figure would have followed him all the way up to the bridge. It might have. It could have. Who was he to say it hadn’t? He may have been paranoid but no one could have blamed him after what he had just seen. Unsteadily, he made a few steps backwards on the bridge. If he could run to his house maybe his family was back by now. He could find Mabel and she’d wrap him up in a random warm sweater she had lying about while Ford and Stanley would put up barriers around the house. He could find them and they’d make everything alright. Yes, he just had to get to his house. Maybe it hadn’t followed. Maybe he could get away. Maybe it didn’t have eyes where he was now since the trees were away from him. Maybe it wouldn’t find him, whatever it was…whoever it was. 

He made a few cautious steps backwards and was just about to turn and run again despite the protests of his body but, instead, he turned and froze. He turned and met one single beautiful golden eye, the colour of sweet nectar, staring directly into his brown ones and he couldn’t make another step as he stared. He couldn’t tell if he was entranced or terrified…

“I do.” 

The man took a step and Dipper stepped back. 

Another step and he almost stumbled and fell as he retreated. 

A third step and Dipper hit the side of the stone bridge, any escape route blocked and fading from his gaze. He couldn’t move. He was frozen to the spot and his body was shaking from the strain he had put it under and the cold…and yet he couldn’t concentrate on anything else than that golden eye that seemed to be staring into the depths of his soul. 

“You may kiss the groom.” 

The words were like a whisper and then cold, dead lips were pressed against his, even colder than the hand on his cheek.

And everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts an apology sticker on the chapter* It's much longer than I expected so I'm not even sure if I need to apologize for that. The characters also decided to deviate from what I originally planned for the rehearsal and I am very happy they did cause I like how it turned out. I also had to rewrite about 2000 words cause I didn't like how I wrote the rehearsal at first...apparently time skips aren't my strong point and I need to keep that in mind =~=;
> 
> Anyway! Here's the fourth chapter, I hope you enjoy and comments are always appreciated, however early, late, short or small, they make me smile~. 
> 
> Also, this won't be exactly like corpse bride, which I expected was obvious by now but I hope you like it nonetheless! 
> 
> Have fun reading! 
> 
> And happy holidays~!
> 
> Edit: Fanart for this chapter of Dipper and Pacifica by my lovely friend Rii:
> 
> http://hazenheim.tumblr.com/post/136519955274/they-really-did-look-as-if-they-were-headed-for-a


	5. I do know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The living should not be in the realm of the dead.

A fire was crackling. 

Actual fire was crackling in a hearth of all things.

The dead did not need heat, they never had. On the contrary if you left a human body in the heat after the soul had vacated it then the body would start to expand like a muffin in an oven, so it was important to keep the body in a cold environment or the blasted thing wouldn’t fit in the coffin, which was annoying in itself. You’d think if someone made you a funeral ceremony you’d at least have the tact to make sure your body fit in the coffin they had ordered, but then again no one had the agency to do that when they were dead. No one had any agency in the land of the living once they were dead, the living and the dead could not mix the same way other beings could. The realms themselves were basically split apart from each other with a one way direction of getting to the underworld and no way of getting back. Of course, many things were up in the air with these realms, just as many things were debatable when it came down to the concept of death itself. A human did not have any agency once they were dead, but that lost agency only extended to the living which the corpse wasn’t part of anymore. 

Once they had entered the realm of the dead they would have their own rights there and integrate in a new sort of society, which could be confusing in itself since the realm of the dead didn’t exactly have any rules. But getting back to the living? Well, that was impossible though there had been several events where zombies had been called out if that could even be called ‘going to the living’. In the end, zombies were just that: walking dead without brains, not really capable of thought or goals, lower beings reduced to their primary instincts, a most disgusting sight. Another thing which should have been impossible was bringing the living to the dead if they were still alive – no one could simply cross that border if they were alive! Perhaps it was not impossible, but it was not done. There wasn’t any rule written for it and it wasn’t as if the world would destroy itself if it happened but there were unspoken rules which everyone knew. One of them was that the realms of the dead and the living did not actively mix with each other.

Bill seemed to have completely missed that rule.

“Bill.” Tad pressed the word down carefully, almost trying to prompt the other for an explanation. He was trying to keep his voice as calm and collected as he could, given the situation, but it was…unnerving. Weird. Strange if one would. It was too out of the ordinary to be overlooked and not be considered absolutely perplexing and Bill was acting as if it was just a casual time drinking time punch! You’d think that given his name he’d be the one getting into weird business and doing all sorts of deals and actions which would beg questions in exceeding numbers but no one could have probably been weirder than Bill. In truth, this whole situation was much more than just a tad strange and Tad Strange had quite had enough of it even before it begun. He had been gone for one day. 

One day!

He had been gone for one day for what was likely not even all of it and he returned to Bill having abducted a human.

He couldn’t even bring himself to have a headache after everything the fellow Demon had been putting him through since the beginning of time. When Tad had come into existence there wasn’t much, he couldn’t recall much from then except for what fuelled his own powers. He remembered blood, humans, sacrifices, cruelty and many other such acts, the type that bore fear into souls and fed him more and more the more they strived, the more drawn out they were in the souls of that dimension and the more intense the sense of terror rooted itself there the better they fed his insatiable appetite. Demons didn’t get to the point of existence easily, nor did they usually survive not getting split up between dimensions too well, they became weak in the flux of souls and dimensional timelines and needed a lot of energy and determination to survive long enough to even get a grasp of what they were and what was around them, they needed a consciousness to actually be able to come into existence. Some were torn apart or got grasped into one world, one dimension or another, others were destroyed even before appearing, some never even came into existence because their ‘element’ did not exist in abundance and hence they were not able to get enough of it to develop a consciousness. 

It was…interesting. 

And terrifying. 

Tad knew he had come into existence for a long while now but he couldn’t recall all of the information since the beginning up until now as clear as others could. He remembered darkness, he remembered feeding on fear and he remembered something tearing at him as if it wanted to split him apart into little microscopic pieces. It had hurt and it hadn’t felt like anything more than picking crumbs from a piece of bread…Bill was one of his earliest memories. He could still recall how he had tried to frighten the Demon when he was no more than a small being himself and had ended up almost getting killed before he was even rooted in the existence of any sort of dimension. Nowadays that was a logical thought. Bill was a Dream Demon but he was also one of the original Demons and a Demon of Knowledge. Originals were generally very strong because they had lived through more and had had to face much stronger spiritual currents to exist but Tad had yet to know any of them who remembered the creation of Earth or the beginning of time, the first plant that had sprouted and the first appearance of an element like his Pharaoh did.

He knew for a long time now that there wasn’t anyone else who could recall everything to the last detail from times where nothing existed up till today the way Bill could. Some Demons were stronger than him when it came to force and Tad sometimes felt sorry for their prideful mouths whenever they opened them in the presence of the Pharaoh. He knew that if Bill got bored or was ticked off that Demon would probably not exist a moment later. No, Bill did not have the same ‘brawn’ other Demons did, his original form was a triangle and it was sometimes so small it would have looked pitiful if not for the lively and prideful look in its one eye, but he knew more than anyone. He knew more than anyone and had magic power exceeding anything Tad could imagine, if he wanted he probably could have ended a dimension in record time. Tad would know, he had seen the Demon do that several times by now out of pure boredom or because he wanted to throw a party – you’d think a Demon of Knowledge and Dreams would have more finesse in his hobbies but Bill was at least twice as unhinged as an insane human – note the ‘at least’. With how much energy Tad got from fear caused by or suffered by the insane he’d know best about that.

And despite this insanity, Tad was very loyal to his Pharaoh. 

Bill had been the one to help him into existence by causing a large burst of fear at some point and then rooting him into his own consciousness. There had been nothing there at the time though, it had been completely empty, nothing to see or hear and for a moment he had wondered if he was out of existence and just floating like thousands of other energies before a shrill laugh had resounded through the air and Bill appeared before him. He still remembered how the Demon had been thoroughly amused at his shape and even more amused at him for having such an ironic thought for his first moment of consciousness. Perhaps the Demon had done it because he was bored, perhaps he needed some new toy to amuse him or simply someone to run errands for him while he did who-knows-what but the fact of the matter remained that Bill had helped him come into existence and somehow survive up until then as well. Ever since then he had trailed after Bill…or perhaps it was more like companionship?

It was a weird type of relationship, sometimes Bill would help him, sometimes they wouldn’t see each other for long periods of time, sometimes Bill would just pop up and check on him when he was bored out of his mind and most of the time they’d just have short meetings. Tad would say he was pretty close to the other Demon if only because he had known him for so long but he couldn’t ever tell what Bill was thinking when it came to him. He couldn’t tell if his fellow Demon considered him important or not but having him around was a common occurrence so Tad at least guessed that Bill found his company acceptable. It was hard to figure anything out with Bill. The being had no fear and seemed to lack anything near morals or rules. He knew so much that everything he knew became boring a second after he had learnt it and nightmares were his domain as much as fear was Tad’s. Even so, the fear Demon had been Bill’s underling since he could remember and this arrangement actually suited him well, he was content with it. It wasn’t as if he could get bored with Bill around and he actually had a high position as a Demon by association…and despite all that he just wished after what would be considered an eternity together that the Dream Demon would at least consider telling him some things!

He had been around Bill for so long and he’d still somehow find himself surprised and put in all sorts of situations even to this day! He’d go out for five measly minutes and come back to see Bill had somehow cut his stomach open and was playing with a liver before shortly after trying to take out the heart of his meatsack while half of the court was looking at him in horror, disbelief and like they would have retched their guts out if they had the ability (some proceeded to try anyhow, probably a gag reflex that was still there, Tad reasoned). The Demon was used to it but he was sure no one else was – especially new arrivals and even people who had been dead for a long while. He’d go out several hours and come back to have Bill question him what would happen if he used a saw on his meatsack’s vertebra and if he thought it would then be possible to grow it back or if it’d be better for him to just peel off all the skin and go around like a skeleton because he was too bored and picking off skin from your own body was somehow a valid pastime in his eyes. He’d go out one day to check on Will at the Pharaoh’s request and he’d come back to see his Pharaoh had used magic to create chambers for a living human being in the underworld. 

Tad liked to think of himself as the voice of reason at the end of the day – because knowledge or not, Bill was lacking one of those – but none of his advice ever really seemed to go through and it was more than a little frustrating, especially when he knew Bill was ignoring it on purpose. 

Tad took a deep breath as if perhaps that would make this whole thing go away, but when he opened his purple eyes again everything was the same. 

The fire crackled happily in the richly decorated hearth opposite of the sofa. 

“Bill.” Tad prompted again, trying to get the Pharaoh’s attention, but the man didn’t even look up at him with his one eye. No, his Pharaoh had his attention on his new…pet? Servant? Human? Decoration? What even was he using a human for was beyond him! Not that it counted for much, once something caught Bill’s interest it was hard to get him to pay attention to much else. And by the looks of it, the boy had definitely caught the Demon’s attention if the way his Pharaoh was looking at him was of any indication. It was as if he wasn’t even in the room while he looked down on the boy almost gently. He was using his right hand to move wet locks away from the boy’s eyes and cheeks but his eye seemed to be looking right past the human he was caressing, beyond the skin and the bones and somewhere much further away, somewhere Tad was sure he couldn’t look or ever reach. Bill had powers beyond Tad’s understanding but the fear Demon wasn’t stupid enough not to know when Bill was seeing something he couldn’t or knew something he hadn’t even heard of before. 

It wasn’t even that the Demon couldn’t multitask, Bill was just stubborn in ignoring everything else when he was interested in something– which was a great problem when you were trying to stop said Demon from doing something, which Tad had had to do a lot of times by now. He could be called an expert for all it was worth! Sometimes the square shaped Demon wondered if Bill was doing it on purpose to annoy him and others – he would, he definitely would – or if he was really just giving his whole attention to whatever it was had caught it because he was a Demon of Knowledge and hence wanted to know everything and anything till the last detail about said thing or being without any other distractions in sight. He supposed he’d never know really because Bill wouldn’t tell him and it might as well have been a combination of those two reasons and many others Tad couldn’t even comprehend with Bill’s messy – and sometimes horrifying – way of thinking. 

Finally, a soft hum, almost like a melody, came from the man with the once golden hair and Tad had to hold back from clicking his tongue in impatience. After being by Bill’s side for so long and taking him as his Pharaoh since near the beginning of time, it would have been natural for him to be mannered around the man…”You can’t just bring someone from the living in the land of the dead.” But Tad had realized long ago that any sort of diplomacy went right into one ear – inexistent physically or not – and out the other so other measures had to be taken. Not to mention that any sort of formal and polite talk had so many loopholes in it that using it with Bill was just begging for him to find them and take advantage. If anything was to get through to the other Tad had to be blunt about it more often than not – sometimes it was a good thing, sometimes it ended up pretty badly but there was always a risk with Bill and that wasn’t questionable.

The Demon brought his gaze up from where he had been resting it on the brown haired boy’s sprawled out form on the sofa, his curly hair still wet and sticking to the big fluffy pillow under his head. Bill himself had been leaning over the back of the sofa and looking down at him. As a matter of fact, he was still leaning on the back of the sofa as he now looked at Tad, the elbow of his good arm resting on it while he brought the palm up to lean his head on it. The other hand, which was that of a skeleton by this point, hung just a bit over the red plush of the sofa, adorned with a simple golden ring which Tad knew hadn’t been there before. His Pharaoh liked gold but he had no interest in covering himself in it – though he might have done it for amusement or out of boredom from time to time. It didn’t make much sense as to why he’d suddenly decide to wear a golden ring and it made Tad feel uneasy not knowing what had transpired. Bill almost looked bored, if not a bit inquiring as he stared at Tad, a bit of a challenge in that one golden eye though the danger there was considerably lower than it would have usually been…perhaps he was in a good mood. “What does it look like I just did?” Bill shot back, rolling his one eye at him in an almost condescending fashion. Clearly, he seemed already done with the conversation as opposed to Tad.

“Abducted a human to the underworld.” The words came out without hesitation and as sharp as a razor but they might as well have had the sharpness of a plastic knife because Bill had no reaction to it except for a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Then it seems to me that I can!” Tad wanted to hit himself for having walked into that one and his jaw clenched tightly shut. Perhaps he looked just a bit worried because Bill waved his skeletal hand dismissively as if trying to dissipate any such thoughts from his mind. “Stop getting your edges caught in corners, it’s fine!” Fine…no, it wasn’t fine! Humans, living and breathing humans, were not supposed to interact with the dead or go into this realm! They were not supposed to be abducted to this realm! They could not survive in this realm because they would have had no air and no warmth, they would have lacked their primary needs which helped their bodies function! However, in spite of the circumstances and everything that clearly said this should not be done, the Dream Demon had brought a human there, had made him his own quarters to live in, had made sure there was warmth in the room and had even put a spell around the boy so he could breathe. Tad felt like he was going to be sick at how much energy Bill had wasted on a human. 

The lower Demon found himself groaning in defeat, the noise sounding almost pained, while he brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, dragging them down to his cheeks in dismay and irritation. Why was this happening to him? He was glad he wasn’t a human or the amount of headaches Bill would have given him by this point would have been enough to traumatize him and fuel so much fear and anxiety that Tad himself could have been considered an original Demon from the absorption of the sheer force of it. Between his fingers he could see Bill’s amused stare and glared back at the being leaning lazily over the couch as if he had just murdered his family, though Bill himself was probably as close as he would ever get to family along with Will. 

“Bill, you can’t just bring humans here!” he lamented once again, this time more loudly, completely ignoring the fact that the human was sleeping. He’d have to wake up sometime anyhow and Bill didn’t seem to try to keep his voice down so why should he bother?

A single golden eye stared at him with a clear expression of ‘Are you an idiot?’ which Tad didn’t even need Bill to voice. 

“Tad, if I need to explain the whole concept of the invention of rules and morality being based on a common opinion among species and not on actual facts to you all over again I swear I’ll blow you back into the spiritual plane.”

Bill was a Demon of Knowledge…and unfortunately for Tad, that meant he could never win an argument. It didn’t help that Bill was so stubborn that the whole of the Demon species could have tried to change his mind and it wouldn’t have worked – they had done that when he had gotten mad at one of them and had decided that destroying that ‘pitiful dimension’ was the best course of action. Needless to say that dimension didn’t exist anymore. When all logic failed it was time to try to understand what the man had been thinking to begin with, which might as well have been signing yourself a one way journey to an asylum if you were normal. Thankfully, Tad wasn’t. It was impossible to be if you spent time with Bill. “No.” He assured begrudgingly, trying not to grind his teeth in exasperation as he steeled himself for everything that was to come. Grinding your teeth wasn’t good for your human vessel and Tad preferred to do minimum adjustments and healing on his but sometimes he simply couldn’t help himself when he was dealing with one of Bill’s crazier moods or plans. Moving forward from where he was standing near the fireplace, it took him just a few steps to get to the armchair placed not too far from the sofa and then sit down, crossing his legs. Bill could tell by his movements that he’d be interrogated next – he looked amused, almost expectant, at the prospect of it – but Tad couldn’t be bothered to care how easy he was to read as long as he got some actual answers. “Why is he here?” he asked, hoping that a direct question might get him a reaction at the very least.

Bill grinned.

Tad felt his human stomach drop. There was just something terrifying and dangerous about Bill’s grin, however happy it looked and Tad never trusted Bill to not have done something crazy when he was like this – or perhaps ‘insane’ would have been more accurate. He never knew what to expect when this happened so he had to mentally prepare himself for the worse but even then the result was something he wouldn’t expect. 

He had a feeling now was one of those times. 

“Have you ever been married, Tad?” The Demon asked instead, his voice filled with fake care, honeyed in that deep tone his vessel had.

That was a stupid question. Bill already knew the answer to that, but the conversation had shifted so suddenly that Tad could just stare at him completely dumbstruck for a moment. “Married?” the word came on his tongue as if it was a foreign swear and suddenly Bill was grinning even wider than before – how had his vessel even survived when it was alive? The blond Demon stood straight and then hopped up onto the back of the sofa, swinging a leg over it so it touched the plush of the seat while he bended the other at the top of it, now better facing Tad. Bill’s foot reached near the boy’s leg and he watched the purple haired vessel of his Demon friend expectantly as he perched himself up there, even leaning forward a bit, that one single eye staring into him expectantly as it had done since the beginning of time…somehow, it had never become less unnerving, only more, and seeing as Tad was a Demon that fed on fear that said a lot. 

“Yes!” The answer came excitedly and Tad just felt himself become more confused by the second while he tried to find any kind of correlation between the situation, Bill and – of all possible things – marriage. The blond looked at him in anticipation of an answer and Tad saw no other way to find out what was going on than to actually play his game. And goodness knew Bill loved playing games, unfortunately they were never pleasant for the other players.

“You know I haven’t. Demons don’t even bother with that!” he snapped, aggravated. The man had just chastised him for referring to conventional morals and rules, and even presuming they might apply and restrict him as the Pharaoh, and now here they were with Bill going on about silly human rituals which literally held no kind of meaning for them. Marriage meant a few papers in the name of the law, so a social construct for a certain type of society, and a wedding in the face of God or of the Gods, depending on the religion – which was all rubbish since no such being existed.

“Me neither!” Bill exclaimed and for a moment reminded Tad of one of those excited little girls at a slumber party. It was not helping with the situation and Bill could already see the square Demon losing what little patience he had had left. Torturing Tad this way was probably one of Bill’s favourite past times and the fear Demon briefly wondered if trying to hit him with something would get him an answer – not a smart move in general but Bill seemed happy enough to only take it jokingly, plus he knew Tad would never dare go against him. If he had had any doubts on that Tad wouldn’t have survived till this day. “It might be fun!” He sounded almost like a child on the playground and perhaps he genuinely entertained the idea or he just wanted to be annoying. Tad went for the latter since he couldn’t even begin to imagine Bill actually happy about or engaging such stupid human rituals. If anything Bill actually had something against meatbags and found their ‘spiritual rituals’ nothing more than a past time amusement due to how downright stupid and meaningless they were in his eyes while they always appeared as this big life changing event to them.

“Would you tell me why you brought a living human to the realm of the dead already?”

Bill pouted and huffed as if Tad had just ruined his fun. “Well, if you must know,” the Demon dragged out the sounds but didn’t seem as if he’d continue. Tad glared and he seemed to deflate, sighing and then narrowing his eyes a bit. It was as if Bill was debating if Tad was the one pulling his leg in this conversation. After a moment of thought Bill decided that the man was actually clueless as to what was going on. “I thought it would be obvious.” He admitted and actually looked sincere, without teasing or mocking the other, and that probably just made it worse. Bill was very quick to catch onto things and even quicker to figure out puzzles even when he barely had the pieces so some part of him seemed almost expectant for the ones close to him to do the same, which mostly included Tad and Will. However, Tad was a fear Demon and Will was a Demon of Emotions, they were definitely not on Bill’s level when it came to puzzles, guessing and figuring out complicated riddles or ciphers.

“It isn’t.” he answered before Bill could go on another tandem or try to deviate even more from the subject. 

“Do you remember Syla?” 

Seems that failed.

“She’s gone.” Tad deadpanned. He remembered Syla. She was a nice girl stuck in an insane asylum since a pretty young age. The girl had summoned him and bound their souls together while ‘playing’. Tad wasn’t even sure if she knew what was going on when the binding had happened but had taken the offer all the same. Caring for her was easy because she didn’t even have a concept of reality and got scared without much effort. Her soul wasn’t necessarily special so pulling energy from it didn’t increase his abilities too much but he had enjoyed the feeling of having her there until she had died about ten years ago and her soul had returned to the spirit flow. “How is this relevant to our discussion?” his words were once again sharp but, as before, had no effect on Bill. Tad already knew they wouldn’t do much but he used the tone to at least get out some of his own frustration if nothing else. Bill definitely wasn’t as good at reading and dealing with emotions as Will was, so Tad almost felt like he had to make up for it by going overboard with some things every once in a while. Bill needed him to be quite blunt at times – not to mention he had no patience what-so-ever – while Will could read his emotions so clearly it was as if he knew exactly what he was thinking, which was scary in a completely different way but he always found himself calm around the other Demon. Bill was the complete opposite of that, always having him on the edge of his seat ready to jump into action because he never knew what crazy twist things would take.

The Dream Demon continued grinning as if he had just massacred several armies in his blue flames – a very enjoyable pastime to him.

“Bond mates should stay close.”

The phrase was simple. 

As simple as it could be whilst it resounded in the quiet room till nothing was left except for the happy crackling of the fire. 

Tad blanched, deep purple eyes seeming to grow a colour lighter as he just stared at his Pharaoh for a good minute. He glanced at the boy on the couch. Back to Bill. Back to the boy…

Finally, after several minutes of just trying to process that, he finally found his human voice again. “What kind of psychopath is this kid?” Was the first thing which came out of his mouth, which in retrospect might have not been the most intelligent of sentences. Bill burst into such loud and boisterous laughter that he fell backwards from the back of the sofa and onto the ground behind with a thud. With all of the noise, Tad wondered how the hell the kid was still asleep, but he wasn’t going to question good luck when he had it. Plus he had more pressing matters to deal with! It was easy to guess that laughter was the last kind of reaction he needed right then. Getting up from his seat, the Demon stalked over to where Bill had fallen on the floor. “Bill, I’m serio-would you at least listen!?” Judging by the Demon trying to get a hold of his inexistent and unneeded breath, he clearly wasn’t. Tad summoned his cane out of the ether and promptly shoved it between some of the Demon’s visible ribs, seeming to finally get some of his attention, though it did little to take away from Bill’s mirth. He looked as if he was about to burst back into laughter by just looking at Tad standing over him. “Listen.” The purple haired man ground out, hoping to at least convey some of his own worries and seriousness to Bill but to absolutely no avail – he should have known better by now. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

Bill seemed unfazed as he answered. “And why not?” 

“Because any human willing to bind themselves to you when you’re stuck in a half rotten corpse with more than half of your organs taken out cannot possibly have any mental sanity. I’m all for you doing whatever you desire, my Pharaoh, but this boy might pull more from you than you do from him and you can’t afford that as things are now!” And Bill should have known this. Tad had told him this beforehand, he had told him to be careful with his powers, to start gaining more so he could get out of that rotten meatsack he was stuck in but the Demon never listened to what he said! Sure, Bill still had his powers, he still could kill anyone who dared defy him and destroy everything they loved, he could still access the Mindscape easily and make deals to gain more power but he was restricted in other domains…Tad had thought they were making progress and then he came back to find out the Demon had used his powers to create chambers for some random human who looked as if he had just been stuck in a pig sty for the last several hours! It was only normal that he was upset over this turn of events when it might affect Bill negatively because, despite everything that he put him through, Tad still cared for Bill. 

Bill just continued grinning and there was something so aggravating to it that Tad felt like impaling him with his cane, but that would have done no good, this body didn’t even feel pain. He watched as Bill pulled the cane away from his ribs, giving it a push that made Tad stumble, and stood up. “I will agree with you on the lack of mental sanity, but Pine Tree is not a psychopath – kid doesn’t have it in him.” The tone was reassuring, if a bit amused…just that Tad did not believe it one bit. “Plus, that’s not what happened!” The Demon quipped and once again hopped onto the back of the sofa, crossing his legs as Tad had done earlier, looking down at him with that prideful look on his face that said he knew something Tad didn’t. 

He always knew more than anyone else.

Tad sighed in exasperation and leaned slightly on his cane. “Then what happened that made it so special?” He was still quite distrusting of what Bill was telling him, not because he didn’t believe him but because Bill’s perception of ‘reality’ and everything else was very screwed up compared to his own, to the point that he wasn’t sure they were even looking at or talking about the same thing at times. “He summoned you, you answered, he proposed the binding – or wanted a deal of some sort and you proposed it – you bounded your souls together. What more could there be to it?” That was the general gist of things after all, though he didn’t doubt Bill would have done something during it to frighten the poor chap even more. Tad had seen him pull deer teeth out of nowhere while discussing deals or even screaming heads among other equally disturbing sights. Bill found it perfectly normal while Tad had to try to explain to him that humans did not find that normal. Tad didn’t doubt Bill was aware of ‘normalcy’ – he just refused to conform to any of it on the basis on boredom. Regardless, in a ‘normal’ situation of this scenario the boy must have been crazy to even consider binding his soul to Bill or even staying around once he saw him. It was just how humans were…the sane ones at least.

It wasn’t the boy that Tad was worried about though. 

“Actually, it was a wedding proposal!” Tad stared at him as if he had just somehow managed to regrow all of his skin, organs and muscles and then grow several other heads besides, all while in a rotting meatbag.“I’ll make it short for you, alright? He came into the forest space an-“

“Your space?” Bill did not look too pleased at being interrupted or the way Tad was looking at him. 

“Yes, now do you want to hear what happened or not?” he snapped, seeming to have grown impatient in the limited timeframe of that short exchange. Tad closed his mouth and waited. After a few moments of silence and glancing at the boy who was still sleeping on the couch, Bill deemed it acceptable to continue. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” The word ‘rudely’ was accentuated and the blond even gave Tad a glare – really, the audacity of this square! “Pine Tree came over earlier as he tends to do when he has problems or just wants time to himself – sometimes he just comes to see me!” Tad tried to conceal his surprise though he wasn’t sure he was doing a good job at it by the look Bill was throwing him. Then again, Bill should have expected it. Pine Tree, huh? That was a weird nickname but it didn’t faze Tad. What did faze him was that Bill was implying he had been coming to the space in the forest for a while now, but Tad couldn’t recall Bill ever mentioning it to him…“Stop looking at me like that, I don’t tell you everything.” Tad’s lips formed a thin line but Bill ignored him. He should have already known Bill wouldn’t tell him everything, he never had and never would, just as he didn’t tell other people everything he knew. It was a fact, not something to get upset about. Sighing, Tad waited for the continuation. “Anyway, he basically proposed to me the way humans do, vows and everything! Would you believe it?” Bill brought up his skeletal hand to show off the ring he was wearing. “And guess what? It worked!” 

For what was possibly the longest time, Tad just stared at him as if Bill had lost his last spark of sanity, but he already knew Bill had none to begin with. Even so, what he was saying was downright impossible, it didn’t even sound right! And despite everything there was a golden wedding band around his finger and an unconscious boy on the sofa to attest for what had happened.

“Let me get this straight,” Tad brought a hand to his forehead as if he really was going to get a headache. “He proposed to you – proposed of all things, vows and ring and everything – and now you’re bound?” He repeated, slowly as if to digest the information that still made very little sense to him.

“Yep!” Came the perky answer from the blond who had now taken to uncrossing his legs and just moving them back and forth like an excited child. 

“It was just a proposal?” he asked again and stole a glance at the boy, quickly bringing his eyes back to Bill as if he was afraid the Demon might have killed him if he stared too long – he sometimes had that ‘reflex’. 

“I know you’re a square but I don’t remember you being this dense.” Bill snapped, seeming to once again have grown impatient.

Tad glared at him, clearly feeling a bit insulted, more so by the ‘dense’ part than the ‘square’. He knew how Bill could get. “Then why does he look as if he got mauled by a bear?” The words came out quickly and with a snap to them he wasn’t even sure he could conjure up right then. He was pretty sure that Bill hadn’t been bound to anyone in a fairly long time but he of all beings knew what a bond implied! Even if the complications of it would have escaped him – which was impossible – everyone knew that they were supposed to keep their counterpart safe, that was the whole working of it and yet the boy looked horrible. He was alive, Tad could sense the soul dwelling in the body, and he could see the way his chest moved up and down as he slept but he still looked like a downright mess. Tad hadn’t been there from the beginning but even he could figure out a few things from what he saw. The boy’s suit was soaked and seemed to have a stain somewhere on the pants leg but you could barely tell since there was mud covering them. There were some scratches on the boy’s hands and they had some grime on them too. The boy’s hair had been wet and stuck to his forehead and the sides of his face earlier but Bill had moved some of the hair away from his eyes and now it was starting to dry in the heat of the fire, curling at the tips. He was also wearing a sweater of all things on top of the suit but Tad wasn’t even sure how to begin asking about that when there were so many things going on. 

“He didn’t take too kindly to me asking for a kiss on the lips.” Bill explained.

Tad stared for what was likely the thousandth time that day, trying to figure out if Bill was even being serious or playing a prank on him. “A kiss?” he managed in disbelief, wondering if his Pharaoh had given up on conjuring anything believable in this game of his and was just making fun of him by this point.

“Yes. A kiss on the lips.” Bill repeated, looking quite serious about it. Tad gave up and decided to just believe him for the sake of whatever sanity he had left. “C’mon Tad, you spend more time with the living than I do! You know how the whole ritual goes for them: the pastor makes your ears bleed for several hours, you say your vows, exchange rings and then you get to kiss your partner on the lips.” 

Perhaps Pine Tree was a bit saner than Tad had originally given him credit for, though the whole proposal itself didn’t really speak of good reasoning if what he heard was correct. 

“Why is he wearing a sweater?” By this point Tad’s mind was so jumbled up he didn’t even know what to ask Bill anymore. Why couldn’t he be more like Will? He had literally just had a whole day sitting down with tea and biscuits while discussing humans and other nonsensical things with Will, everything had been so calm and lovely that they might as well had come right out of a telegram! Then he came back to this dimension and Bill was suddenly bound to a human, married and asking said human for kisses on the lips.

Bill shrugged. 

“He was cold.” 

“You got him a sweater and a fire but couldn’t get him cleaned up and healed?” The fear Demon looked at Bill incredulously.

“Don’t blame it on me, you know how it works, he needs to want something. Plus, I can’t reach him well yet, I don’t think he’s recognized me.”

Tad decided not to even try understanding what Bill meant by ‘recognize’ since there was absolutely no way Bill and this Pine Tree had met before as far as he was aware. Even if the boy had gone into the clearing, it would have been just that: a simple clearing where things refused to change if you moved them, nothing else. Bill couldn’t really interact with it. He knew however that if Bill couldn’t reach him well he couldn’t draw power from the boy’s soul like normal so he could at least agree for Bill to stop wasting his energy on this. Still…”You expect me to believe he was like this and the first thing he wanted was a sweater?”

“Pine Tree’s twin has an infinite collection of sweaters, you’d think the girl had magic of her own! Of course he’d think of sweaters, he was probably thinking of getting home to her while running away from me. Do you think it’d have a unicorn on it otherwise, because burgundy and magenta definitely aren’t Pine Tree’s colours.” 

The amount of questions those sentences alone rose were infinite.

Had Tad had his wits about him right then and wouldn’t have been so preoccupied with other matters he might have noticed the twinkle of mischief in the Dream Demon’s eye, but as it was he had plenty of reasons to be distraught. A scream tore through the silent room and the soft crackling of the fire, the sleeping boy shooting straight up into a sitting position on the couch and clutching the material of the sweater in a death grip where his heart would have been as if the organ was about to rip out of his chest – to Dipper it certainly felt like it. The sudden scream startled Tad to the point that he jumped back and lost his footing, his own scream accompanying Dipper’s as he fell into an unceremonious pile on the floor in front of his Pharaoh. 

Bill was laughing his heart out at both of them.

Tad was the first to regain his composure, getting into a sitting position and glaring at the Demon’s boisterous laughter with reproach. Bill had known the boy was having a nightmare and would wake up soon, if anything he had probably felt it through their bond and he hadn’t said anything. Nope, he had just waited till the boy would wake up and scare the living daylights out of him! Tad would have liked nothing more than to throw a magically charged attack at the rotting corpse right about then. Really, it was a good thing that Tad had known Bill for so long or else he would have taken offense at this or even feared thinking such things around him when knowing what the other could do to him, but as it was he had probably had such thoughts countless of times by then which was understandable. Bill didn’t really hold them against him; he seemed to find amusement in the fact that Tad could even imagine actually hurting him. Bill knew Tad would never be able to, just as he knew that despite everything Tad would not betray him, it was a given. If Tad had been perfectly calm, and even content, while visiting William earlier that day, he felt like pulling his perfectly styled purple hair out right then as he watched the Demon laugh like no tomorrow from where he sat perched up on the back of the sofa.

Compared to the male on the floor who was quickly recuperating from being startled out of his mind – though recuperating mentally from everything Bill had just thrown at him would be a completely different matter – Dipper was doing considerably worse. He couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming about or what the nightmare even consisted of but he remembered he was cold and couldn’t move, he remembered he was rooted to the spot and had no escape from wherever he was, he remembered something following him and eyes everywhere. He didn’t know what he had been dreaming of, but he knew he had been so scared that the shaking from his dreams had carried themselves into reality and, for the first time in a long while, he had actually woken up screaming.

It was terrifying. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had had nightmares so horrible. His sleeping patterns had never been the best, he always needed a while before falling asleep and sometimes would wake up several times during the night instead of getting a full night’s rest as he should have. Sometimes he just got so irritated with his body that he gave up and stayed up the whole night as revenge against sleep. It wasn’t abnormal or anything and no one in the household even bothered to question him when it came down to it, but that was it. He had strange sleeping patterns and pulled all-nighters every once in a while, occasionally staying awake till he collapsed if he was caught up in a project or feared he might have nightmares. Compared to Ford who seemed like he’d pull all-nighters daily if he could and needed Grunkle Stan to drag him to bed – sometimes by force or with threats to whatever he was studying – Dipper was actually normal. The thing was he hadn’t had a single nightmare since he was thirteen years old and he and his sister had moved in with their Grunkles. He couldn’t recall even one nightmare after that and yet now he felt as if he was going to have an anxiety attack from having just woken up from a particularly horrible one. Particularly horrible and more than a little real with how cold he felt. Despite the crackling of the fire in his ears he was freezing and the material against his skin was still wet…he didn’t even recognize the material he was clutching onto but his mind seemed to register that it wasn’t the one from his coat. 

Then again, that was the least of his worries…

Boisterous laughter resounded along with a scream that wasn’t his own the moment he woke up, causing him to snap his head in their direction. His eyes landed upon the corpse of a man and all of his blood seemed to go cold in his veins as if wishing to match the temperature of his skin, the tremble that had taken hold of him seeming to tighten its grasp. He hadn’t really eaten anything that day except for breakfast and he knew he had a strong stomach but after everything that had happened he almost wished he could vomit just because afterwards one tended to feel better…and perhaps then he’d just wake up somewhere in a hospital or in his room with a horrible fever and be told that this was all a dream, another nightmare…but it wasn’t and he recognized the person in front of him just vaguely from all of the memories suddenly flooding his brain with a vengeance. 

The golden wedding band on the man’s finger glinted accusingly in the light of the fire and for all of his cues to look around, Dipper found himself too shocked to even move or look anywhere else than at the laughing figure standing above him on the back of the couch. For a long while there was no sound in the room except for the deep resounding laughter of the man – he looked as if he was about to fall off of the sofa any minute now with how he was just barely balancing himself on the back of it – and Dipper’s rasped breathing, each which seemed to scratch at his abused throat harshly after the bloodcurdling scream he had let out. Beyond the man’s laughter barely anything could be heard but Dipper felt as if his breaths were too loud, as if they’d attract attention towards him and then he’d be doomed, as if the person in front of him would devour him whole if he caught his eye. Even so, he needed to breathe and his breaths came out rasped and quick, in stuttered pants…he felt as if he was hyperventilating. He was cold, he couldn’t stop trembling and his mind was running in circles while his heart was in overdrive with fear and terror. 

He couldn’t move.

And then the laughter stopped and a single golden eye turned to him, pinning him to the spot, smile nowhere to be found.

All of a sudden he felt like he couldn’t breathe and his heart struggled to rip itself out of his chest even more than before.

For a single moment that eye settled only on him and Dipper was sure he was going to suffocate, just as he was sure that it was all the fault of him shaking that the man could see him. If he hadn’t moved, if he could have stayed still, perhaps then he wouldn’t have even noticed him…what a stupid thought. 

“Tad, leave us.” 

Somewhere from the corner of Dipper’s vision someone stood up. “As you wish, my Pharaoh.” And with a sigh of the air whatever presence had been there disappeared.

They were alone…

A grin graced the man’s lips and Dipper felt his throat grow tight and his stomach churn, not able to comprehend exactly what it was that made them do so or what he saw in that one honeyed eye that made him feel like a seasoned prey in front of the hunter’s gun. The man moved with ease, swinging his legs to the other side of the couch where Dipper had been laying and Dipper suddenly felt him mind kicking into overdrive at the sign of movement. He scrambled away so suddenly and so quickly towards the side of the sofa that he almost knocked the thing down, breaths coming out in heavy pants as his body realized he had to breathe and that wherever he was he could actually breathe. 

“Woah there, Pine Tree, calm down!” Bill almost lost his balance at the sudden movement of the couch though in the end the furniture did not topple over and he got both legs on the side where Pine Tree was, having more than half of the sofa completely vacated now since Pine Tree had literally cornered himself. The boy had brought his legs close and everything as he tried to appear as little as possible, looking as if he was trying to have the huge fluffy pillow – which Bill had summoned up for him to lay his head on and rest – swallow him whole. Perhaps if it had been bigger, it might have, but as it was right now the boy’s attempts were silly and futile. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere to go or escape to anyhow, but Dipper hadn’t even taken his eyes off of him enough to realize that – which might have been for the best since he seemed to already be hyperventilating.

Bill’s words didn’t seem to even reach Dipper though. “Where am I?” His breath was still coming out in pants as if he had just ran in a marathon and he didn’t look calm at all, voice cracking as he got the words out just barely through his dry throat. Suddenly everything was too clear and his mind was taking in all of the information around him at once. He wasn’t in the forest anymore, he wasn’t outside at all actually, he was lying on a huge red plush sofa with golden decorations that would have taken anyone’s eyes away. He could also feel a pillow behind him, soft and easily giving in to the pressure of his body when he pushed against it. And despite that his clothes still felt cold and wet just as they had in the forest and his head was spinning but he could tell there was warmth coming from nearby and the room was definitely warmed up nicely. It reminded him a bit of when his Grunckles would overdo their job with heating during winter. It tended to get to the point that he and Mabel couldn’t wear sweaters because the house was too warm – not that Mabel gave up on it, but Dipper couldn’t take that sort of heat. Currently, Dipper couldn’t get a good look at the room, mostly because he feared letting the one in front of him out of his sight more than anything else. He felt as if the man might attack him or do something horrible to him if he took his eyes off of his form even for a moment, though he couldn’t bring himself to go into specifics – even blinking seemed too much. He did, however, notice that there was a lot of gold and some soft shades of red around, he also briefly noted dark wooden furniture somewhere behind the man but didn’t dwell on it. Had this been any other situation he would have assumed by the lavish look of the place that he was at the Northwest mansion but the mansion was dull and without colour, bearing way too many gaudy plants, while this room was full of golden shades, browns and soft reds, the types of colours that were easy on the eyes and made you feel warm inside…and somehow Dipper felt colder than ever. 

Bill let himself fall from where he had been balancing on top of the back of the sofa, instead settling himself down on the side opposite to Dipper. The sudden movement made Dipper flinch like a deer would when cornered, wondering if it should run or even had any chance of escape. Bill seemed to completely ignore the boy’s reaction and crossed his legs underneath him comfortably, leaning his back against the armrest. His eye had left the boy for just one moment but was now back on him as if it had always been there…somehow Dipper felt as if that gaze had never left him despite what his own eyes were telling him. In truth that honey coloured eye was the only thing Dipper could actually vividly recall from before, so vividly that it couldn’t have been normal. Now that they were standing in such close proximity – at least compared to before as Dipper was still trying to keep as much distance between them as the couch would allow – he finally got a good look of the other’s appearance.

A corpse.

However Dipper looked at him, he was a corpse…

He hadn’t been able to tell much the night before – was it night? Was it day? How long had he even been out? How long had it taken for him to even be brought here? It couldn’t have possibly been too long if he was still wearing the same clothes, right? – but now that he saw him without the moonlight and darkness obstructing his view Dipper could at least notice some more distinct features. He had looked deadly pale when shadowed by the full moon but Dipper now realized that the man actually harboured dark skin…he was indeed pale but it was from death. If he looked close enough he was sure he could see a few freckles on his cheeks though his right eye and part of his cheek were covered by strands of hair that fell over them, obstructing anyone’s view. Dipper didn’t have to be told what was behind though, he knew there was a hole there where a matching honeyed eye should have been, he remembered that so clearly that the very thought of it made his stomach twist unpleasantly. The hair would have matched the nectar golden colour of his eyes if it had only been clean, but it looked neglected and dirty. Part of it was definitely blonde while another part was black underneath on the side of his head and much shorter than the blond locks. Dipper wasn’t sure if it was black because of the actual colour or because it was just extremely grimy like death tended to do with hair. Yes, he had summoned zombies before – and Mabel had chastised him thoroughly for it along with his Grunkles – but those barely had any hair and looked downright horrible and disgusting, it wasn’t like you had time to draw the things down to every detail when you were trying to escape with your brain intact either.

Dipper also took note of the more unnatural details, as he had before he had blacked out: the muscle that was almost visible underneath the skin of the man’s cheeks, the gaping hole where his stomach should have been, revealing the man’s ribs on the right side and extending far enough that Dipper was able to see his spinal cord on the other side and, finally, the skeletal hand bearing the wedding band…For all of his misgivings, if Dipper would have been able to think straight right then he would have at least admitted that the man before him must have been very beautiful when alive, especially if he could still retain some of that beauty even when dead. Very dead and missing quite a few necessary human organs he might add…

His earlier question was met with silence and the soft crackling of the nearby fire.

Dipper wasn’t sure how much time passed without them moving or saying anything. The man refused to move his gaze away from him and Dipper refused to let him out of his sight in return, however unnerved it made him feel. His muscles were tense under the pressure but it wasn’t something in the room as much as it was him who was putting pressure on himself, driving himself insane with the fear in his mind. His throat felt parched after everything and there was no stopping the shaking of his limbs, however much he tried to ignore it. 

He didn’t dare move from his spot… 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but despite his terrifying thoughts and the way his mind was still reeling, his breath started calming down and even his heart started resuming a more normal pace that didn’t hurt his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, he knew that he needed to calm down to think clearly but he didn’t want to be calm or feel comfortable around this creature. He was scared. If he let his guard down he might just fall into a trap but as it seemed right then the man had no intention of moving towards him, of eating his brains or of currently harming him. It reminded Dipper of when he would have to gain the trust of an animal or another and would stand still till his muscles hurt before the creature finally decided it wasn’t a threat and got close. Dipper wasn’t going to make that mistake, however harmless the man looked – which wasn’t much, his eye alone was more than enough to send fear into someone and they wouldn’t even be sure what they feared but they would know it was worse than anything they had ever experienced or would experience.

“Have you calmed down, Pine Tree?” 

Dipper would have expected the voice to tear through the silence but it flowed easily in the air with a deep rumble. For a moment Dipper felt confused as to where the voice was coming from, which was silly. He could see the man’s lips moving after all. The voice was deep and almost soothing…he didn’t trust it. He took a deep breath as if that would steady all of his remaining nerves and the man watched closely as he did so. Dipper gulped down a lump in his throat and, finally, nodded. A smile pulled at the man’s lips and Dipper faltered in voicing his next question. “Who…” The word came out more like a croak and Dipper coughed a few times to clear his throat before speaking again. “Who are you?” he managed, finding his voice much steadier than he felt. 

“Pine Tree, that hurts!” The man whined rather loudly, even going as far as bringing a hand over his chest where his heart would have been – Dipper was pretty sure it was missing. The human blinked in surprise at how quickly the man’s demeanour changed from looking calm and collected, if not a bit scary, to pouting like a two year old, smooth voice now whining even while it kept its earlier traits well enough. “Don’t you remember me?” He pushed and this time a grin lifted his lips as he eyed the boy with something Dipper couldn’t pinpoint.

There was that weird name again…”That’s not my name.” He pointed out carefully, not sure if it would anger the being or not. He wasn’t sure if it was of importance or not but he noted it down somewhere in his mind for later. If anything, the comment was more so he could gain some time to think on what the other had told him. Remember him? Remember him from where? Dipper had seen many strange beings since he was twelve years old but he was sure he hadn’t seen this one or he would have catalogued him as he did everything else.

He didn’t recognize him…

“That’s what I call you.” The man stated simply, voice a light sing song that sent a chill down Dipper’s spine. 

If that’s what he called him it couldn’t have possibly been something too recent, could it?

Dipper tried to gulp down some saliva so his throat wouldn’t feel so horrible but it didn’t help much. He looked at the man in front of him as if he’d see something which would spark some memory, a hint of sorts…He didn’t know anyone with this exact skin colour or with such an eccentric hair style and he was sure he wouldn’t have easily forgotten someone with that eye colour. Even so, he took a few more minutes to just look at him and try to wrack his brain for an answer or even a vague guess. He was dead. Dead meant it was alive at some point. If he knew him they must have met but Dipper wasn’t sure about that. From the way he looked he must have been dead for how long? A corpse decomposed in about eight to twelve years but could take longer depending on the coffin and ground so Dipper would give the one before him at least five years or more. He would have been sixteen years or younger when this person had died then. It wasn’t as if Dipper hadn’t attended his fair share of funerals but he couldn’t remember anyone that looked like the one in front of him from where he currently lived and he couldn’t remember anyone this interesting from when he was a child either. “I don’t know you.” He decided in the end, voice confident though he would have liked nothing more than to curl up on himself right then as to preserve whatever warmth was left in his body and hide from the suit clad male. The room was warm but he still felt like he was freezing, however much he ignored it. 

The man didn’t even seem to take notice. 

In truth, it wasn’t that Bill didn’t notice. He was simply ignoring it because he knew Pine Tree would never listen to him if he pointed it out or helped him right then. No, he knew his little sapling would cower even more and let his mind run in circles with all sorts of frightening scenarios. Bill hadn’t made his way into the boy’s mind too often, he usually made sure to block nightmares so the boy got whatever rest he could when he even decided to sleep – the boy’s sleeping program was atrocious! Bill could understand unhealthy eating habits and almost getting himself killed at least once a week but he drew the line at bad sleeping habits – and then let himself be on his merry way to more productive things. He did, however, often hear the boy rant sometimes in his room or sometimes in his spot in the forest. Sometimes he’d laugh and be amused, sometimes he’d scare him even more and sometimes he’d take enough pity on the boy to comfort him. This time there wasn’t a choice, if he wanted to have a conversation with Pine Tree he had to get the boy to relax first but Dipper was as tense as an abused bedspring ready to jump out of the mattress and that just wouldn’t do. He had let the boy calm down enough to breathe normally – a little spell from him had made sure the boy could breathe there without problems and would not feel the smell of rot coming off of his body – and that seemed to bring some control back to those blown and scared brown doe eyes of his. 

If he had enough of a mind to question the name he used for him, Bill deemed the boy was on his way to at least gaining some grip of his thoughts as to be able to have a conversation – thankfully. 

It was actually a bit amusing how the boy seemed so sure of himself when answering, if not irritating at the same time. “Try again, Pine Tree.” He said simply, voice still holding a sing song tone to it as he spoke, tilting his head to the side just enough for his hair to follow and reveal the hole it hid where his eye was missing. Surprisingly enough, Dipper didn’t move his eyes away from his own even with the hole staring right back at him. Instead, the boy furrowed his brows, probably trying even harder than before to figure out who Bill was. There weren’t many hints in front of him and the boy’s mind must have still been clouded from sleep, the earlier adrenaline and just generally muddled from everything that was happening. Under different circumstances perhaps Dipper would have already figured out what was going on, he was a smart meatbag. Dipper also knew there was something he was missing in all of this conversation, something besides what he already knew, but he couldn’t figure out what and the question he had been given didn’t really help. ‘Don’t you remember me?’ the corpse had asked as if that would instantly spark some recognition in him, but Dipper had just found himself more perplexed than before to find out that this creature knew him. 

Once again the only sounds in the room seemed to be Dipper’s breathing and the crackling of the fire. 

Bill was starting to get impatient with how long it was taking Pine Tree to figure things out. “You can look around if it helps,” A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and he saw a shiver visibly shake the boy. “I won’t bite, I swear.” Perhaps he looked a bit too predatory because Dipper seemed to stop breathing and tensed up as if he expected him to pounce if only for just a moment

The boy seemed conflicted on the matter and the man’s ‘encouragements’ did not help. He wasn’t sure he could trust the one before him. Actually, he didn’t trust him at all and still felt as if he was in danger…however, there was something he was missing and he might have been able to figure it out by looking around if the tone the other used bore a hint like he thought it did. He risked a glance to the side but quickly returned it to the man as if expecting him to disappear. 

He didn’t…

Taking his heart in his teeth, Dipper actually looked around the room this time and was surprised with how large it was. It wasn’t excessively large but it was still fairly big. From what Dipper could guess by the arrangement, it was a living room. There was the big red plush sofa he was sitting on, decorated at the edges with intricate golden designs, an armchair in a similar fashion adorned with patterns mirroring the sofa, a small coffee table between the sofa and the armchair and, at a fair distance away, enough to be safe but more than close enough to feel the warmth, there was a hearth with a fire crackling happily. Dipper also noticed several doors around the room, wooden with smaller intricacies which he didn’t dwell on, there were no gaudy plants, and dark wooden furniture littered the rest of the room, bearing old styled designs alongside the edges and a small library not that far away with book titles Dipper couldn’t read from where he was sitting. It was a luxurious room in truth, surprisingly so. In a strange way it reflected the man before him well though Dipper couldn't quite tell why he thought so.

He made sure to take note of everything, but when his eyes finally settled on the other side of the room, just opposite to the back of the sofa, his mind came to a sudden and almost forceful halt, all earlier thoughts leaving his mind. The room had been drenched in golden shades and soft red hues since the beginning but somehow it hadn’t even crossed his mind that they were the same kind as the ones in his room, the same as the ones in the dusty room where he had chased the gnome to and played soft piano music in…

And somehow they were still different. 

The piano room had been charged with such a dark red that it looked like a massacre coated in a cruel sunset. His room held more gold to it but even there the shades that came through often had some red to them, an intense sort that refused to leave even if it came off as warm most of the time. This room though held an amazing amount of gold to it along with very soft hues of red to compliment it. They were warm and soft but held almost no intensity compared to the ones Dipper was used to. 

It was almost like a sweet caress compared to the usual touches…

Things finally started to click into place as he stared at the stained glass that took up a considerable part of the wall. It was a big stained glass and, just like the one from his room, possessed colours that refused to let you look outside of it but in exchange bathed you in warm rays of sunlight and shielded you from the cold and harsh light on the outside. It was the type of feeling that made you feel protected and warm inside, but Dipper couldn’t tell what it was doing there for one moment as his mind comprehended its existence. He recognized the shape so very well it might have been part of his own existence by then. His body still felt tense with the other man’s corpse in the room but something about the setting, the way the soft gold gently laid itself over the wooden furniture and how the red hues turned into a soft pink in a few corners, the way the stained glass seemed to stand watching over everything in the room and the surprisingly comforting silence around…they had him relaxing just a bit, some of the tension leaving his body and his stomach starting to calm down from the constant flip flops it seemed to have taken to doing. 

There was a triangle and Dipper was sure he couldn’t have gotten a better hint even if he had asked for it. 

Triangles were all over the Shack, all over his home, he had grown up with them around. He had seen one earlier when he had gone to the Northwest mansion and one other place he had seen one in, a slightly more complicated one than the stained glasses held, was in the forest. He had seen it in the forest, in his little clearing. He had seen it in the place that the presence he had been interacting with, for what must have been at least nine whole years, dwelled…the place where he recited his vows and the skeletal hand of the man grabbed at him before he ran. He had never before actually made a concrete connection between the triangles in his home and the one in the clearing, simply because there was nothing else he had found out that could connect them properly. Yes, there were triangles in both places and Dipper knew there was a connection but he had never known to what it extended. Right then he was sure it extended to the being in front of him and he felt various emotions flowering in his chest all at once now that he understood what was going on. 

He brought his brown eyes back to the male who looked quite intrigued as he watched him. He must have been amused with how Dipper looked as recognition finally washed over him like a violent wave. “I do know you.” Yes, he knew him. He definitely knew him. He had known him for nine whole years and while there had never been spoken interaction or even written interaction between them, Dipper knew him very well. He could read this being’s moods like they were his own and suddenly felt very stupid for having not noticed the presence around him. It was the same as the one in the clearing, it was soft and ethereal and Dipper could never grasp or reach it in any way but he always knew what the soft changes in the air meant almost instinctively. 

With how it felt now, the blond was terribly amused, if not a little impatient and Dipper felt embarrassed for having taken so long to gather his thoughts and come to such an obvious conclusion. Even more so when the presence was this pronounced…that was strange. It felt a bit thicker than usual, for lack of a better term. Dipper wasn’t sure how to explain it but usually the presence felt watery and it was as if it floated around, letting him go right through it, but as it was now he almost felt like he could grasp it. It had a pleasant thrumming to it that actually made his cold body feel a bit warmer and instead of it being unreachable and around him he felt as if it was permeating through his skin and being. He couldn’t tell how or why though. Maybe it was simply because he was in his physical presence this time? Because they were in the same room instead of communicating over different realms? Or worlds? Dipper wasn’t sure what the right term was but given the lack of information at this point he would just have to assume that was it since it was his best guess. 

The blond didn’t seem to need more than that to know Dipper recognized him and knew exactly from where as well. An ear-splitting grin took over his face. “Yes, you do!” he agreed, seeming very happy with this development. Dipper could basically feel the energy around him thrum in happiness at that and found a smile tugging on his own lips. “And I trust you know from where.” 

Dipper smiled and Bill couldn’t help but think that Pine Tree actually looked kind of cute when he was smiling almost bashfully at him. “From the clearing.” Dipper’s whole body seemed to have relaxed, his muscles weren’t tense anymore and he actually moved without worries as he brought his feet underneath him to sit cross legged the way Bill was doing, mirroring the blond. They both probably looked like a mess but that wasn’t of concern to either. The boy seemed to have finally relaxed some and Bill could hear his heart starting to beat at a normal pace for the first time since he had woken up. Dipper was starting to find it hard not to be relaxed now that he had calmed down, if anything he felt himself just a little excited over what was happening. He had no idea where he was or what was going on but he knew he was with someone familiar. He had never been able to figure out what the presence in the clearing truly was though he had often made theories about it being a ghost, a zombie, some lost soul and many other things but each and every single time the other would disapprove of them with an angry energy, sometimes to the point of being threatening, so Dipper had had to give up in the end. It hadn’t counted too much after a while anyhow, he just liked going to the clearing to clear his own thoughts and have someone to talk to. 

It wasn’t as if the presence there could talk back or interact with him but Dipper had found he liked it that way sometimes. He knew he shouldn’t have, but when his family made fun of any of his hobbies or when someone made fun of his birthmark he just wanted to get away from them so he’d go to his place in the forest to escape where they couldn’t find him. He’d sometimes rant or sometimes he’d just sulk. Every once in a while the energy around him would shift in question, while other times nothing happened and, rarely, he’d actually feel comforted by it. He would have known if he was annoying it or if it ignored him but it hadn’t ever done that and sometimes he’d give in and just tell it what happened when he felt anger spark in the air, anger that wasn’t ever directed towards him. Sometimes he felt as if the presence didn’t care, as if no one did, and that was definitely far-fetched because he had a loving family and, despite everything that happened, that presence hadn’t ever truly ignored him or hurt him. Sometimes when he felt that way he remembered one occasion when he had gone to the clearing after Mabel and Grunkle Stan had made fun of him for a game he had gotten quite excited over – they meant it as playful banter or teasing but it had still gotten to him then. The energy then had shifted just a bit when he entered the clearing and then nothing had happened for a long while as he had just sulked. 

Finally, Mabel had come looking for him and calling his name. He knew she couldn’t see him where he was and he hadn’t gone out but she continued staying around the area and calling him…it was hard to ignore but he didn’t want to go out or go home at the time. He remembered that for a while he had covered his ears to keep her voice out but it hadn’t helped and then the sound had stopped completely and he had had to look up to see if she was gone. But no, Mabel was still right outside of the area of his little clearing…it had taken him a moment to realize the presence there was shielding him from the sounds around. Perhaps it wasn’t quite obvious if the presence cared for him but sometimes it did little things like shielding him from outside sounds when he needed to be alone, giving him small feelings of encouragement when he seemed to reach a block or make him feel proud of something he drew and Dipper decided that perhaps it did care for him, if only a little. 

Not to say it was always warm and collected, Dipper still remembered how cold and scary it had been when he had first entered the clearing. It hadn’t been the only time either, sometimes he’d go there and instead of intrigue or calm he’d find his skin prickle with goose bumps and his throat tighten with fear. It was a scary thing and with no way for the energy to really communicate except for the feeling in the air Dipper couldn’t do too much to make it better. At first he had just left the clearing and come back later since he had no idea what to do and feared he might make it worse but later on he had decided that was unfair. He went there all the time and this being had to deal with him when he was having his moods but he couldn’t deal with it when it was feeling angry? It didn’t quite seem right…even so, he hadn’t found much he could do when it was angry, though he had tried his best to. Sometimes he’d hum for it and every once in a while it worked while other times it just got it angrier so he’d stop. Sometimes he’d just tell it about what was going on in town, nonsensical things to distract it which actually seemed to work well. Sometimes the energy was just too thick with anger and if he so much as made a peep it would get to the point that he feared getting his head cut off so instead he’d just keep quiet and stay there to keep it company. He found out that it liked it when he drew so he had gotten into the habit of taking out his drawing supplies and working on a drawing or another when it was so angry it couldn’t calm down. It would always take a long time for it to gain any sort of relevance to calm and Dipper would often have to come up with excuses for his family as to why he was out late but he didn’t want to leave the energy alone to fend for itself. They were just a few white lies…

“That took you a while, Pine Tree! But yes, that’s correct.” The man in front of him agreed, the ear-splitting grin still on his lips as he looked at the boy with excitement. Dipper could basically feel small bursts of the emotion on his skin, it was kind of pleasant and a bit amusing how happy the other was to see him. It was kind of nice to know you were wanted somewhere so much, it was always harder to tell such things with other people but Dipper had known this person for a very long time. If they could communicate without one of them being able to actually send messages then conversation would be easy. It was a bit strange to be called that though, Dipper couldn’t quite think of anything that would have made him gain that nickname and he was pretty sure the other knew his name because he had written it a few times when trying to communicate with it, introduced himself and everything. 

“You know that’s not my name.” He told him but the grin never faltered. Instead, a skeletal hand waved off his words.

“It’s what I call you, Pine Tree! So you better get used to it.” And it was as stubborn as Dipper remembered…and still he couldn’t bring himself to be mad with him, if anything it made him smile to have some sense of normalcy around – as normal as all of this could be considered. 

“Yes, because I am definitely going to sprout some branches and pine needles sometime soon.” That seemed to make the other laugh and Dipper found he liked the sound, it was loud but it was warm and filled with joy. However, Dipper also recognized the feeling of the other withholding something from him – he did that a lot whenever Dipper asked for hints when he was working on something. Sometimes the other just messed with him, Dipper knew that for a fact, so he had to be on his toes when that happened. 

“Better not Pine Tree or you might find yourself a Christmas Tree instead and we wouldn’t want you dying because someone wanted to cut off your legs and decorate you for your death as you rotted away in a house.” Now, as accurate as that might have been Dipper was pretty sure some of the blood left his face at the morbid joke. He didn’t want to imagine that. Decisively, he might have known this being well and knew how to read its moods but, from the looks of it, he had been terribly wrong when he had thought that having a conversation with it would come off as easy as him reading its emotions did. “But no. I call you Pine Tree because that’s your symbol on my wheel!”

Dipper’s brows furrowed, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “Wheel?” he repeated, hoping that the other would take the hint and clear things up for him. 

It might have been that he was used to just giving Dipper hints and letting him guess or find things out for himself, perhaps he just liked seeing him having trouble when researching something more dangerous, but the blond had definitely gotten into the habit of letting Dipper guess things for himself if possible. And perhaps part of that reason was because Dipper always looked so happy when he discovered something for himself as opposed as to when someone told him. Not to say the boy didn’t like information, regardless of the source, but he always seemed to gain a sense of achievement when he realized he already knew the answer or had discovered something by himself. “Yep.” The Demon said approvingly and Dipper clicked his tongue in that way he had whenever he was too busy thinking to actually tell Bill straight off that he was being most unhelpful with his ‘answers’. He could almost see the boy worrying his lower lip and didn’t doubt that he would have been biting on a pen in a vicious attempt to destroy it – intentional or not – if he had only had one on hand. He decided a hint wouldn’t hurt. “Do you remember the rock in the clearing?” 

The brunet’s eyes seemed to light up at that and Bill could literally see the way those brown eyes widened just a bit as he finally grasped what he was alluding at. “The one near the third tree to the left when you enter from the east? The one with the triangle?” The Demon couldn’t help a chuckle. Leave it to Pine Tree to be so detailed about the position of a rock of all things! Not that Bill didn’t do the exact same thing with everything he knew but there was something very endearing about how Dipper would just spout out the answer readily when he knew it. It was kind of sweet in a strangely innocent way; especially for someone who was so involved with the supernatural he might as well had lived among them instead of humans.

“One and only – literally all the others are just rocks.” The Demon answered still grinning in amusement. Dipper could feel a strange warmth in the air…he found he liked it. “There’s a wheel around the triangle there, your symbol on it is a Pine Tree, so naturally I’ll call you Pine Tree!” 

The boy nodded, seeming to take this information in. He remembered the wheel, he had drawn it once in the journal he had at the time and then ripped the page from it and moved it into the current one he had on the clearing. They were safely tucked into the secret compartment under a drawer in his room. He knew the symbols on it by heart, they were a bit strange but he had tried to learn them if only because he had thought he might get a hint as to what being resided there, as to what the connection was between the triangle there and the ones in his home. He had never really come to find out anything about them until now though. “What about the others then?” The man raised an elegant eyebrow at him, waiting for the boy to finish his question. When excited he had learnt that Pine Tree sometimes asked a simple question to a more complex series of questions as if trying to put them all in one before his brain even brought forth the words he needed for the rest. “I mean, who do they apply to? Can they enter your clearing too? Is that why they are there?” But Dipper didn’t remember anyone else ever being in the clearing except for him and assuming it didn’t split into different realities or any strange realm or different places then surely there could have been no way he would have missed someone else if they had been in the clearing. 

“Nope, just you Pine Tree! And why they’re there isn’t for you to know either!” That seemed to make the boy seal off any other questions he had. He had learnt by now that if the being didn’t want to tell him something it wouldn’t, whatever he did. If anything it got annoyed when he insisted…”Plus, I’m sure you have plenty of other questions about me!” The demon put a hand up in a stop motion which confused Dipper who caught himself just as he had been about to ask his next question. “One question at a time.” Bill said with a smirk and Dipper almost pouted at how well this man knew him. If he would have let him continue before, Bill would have probably found himself flooded with enough questions to fill several books before he could even give any answers. The blond looked quite smug as he watched Pine Tree worry his lower lip and think what he wanted to ask first. No doubt his mind was full of so many inquiries that it was hard to decide on just one but Bill hadn’t given him any other option.

Finally, Dipper seemed to decide on a question. 

“What are you?” 

Ever since he was twelve years old he had been trying to figure that out but hadn’t had any luck with it. There weren’t enough hints, everything he had gathered was jumbled up and the being itself never approved any of his guesses. It made sense that would be what he asked. Bill at least had to admit he admired the boy for having sneaked in two questions at once. Dipper wanted to know what he was but he also wanted to know who he was and those two went hand in hand more often than not. The Demon could literally feel the curiosity Pine Tree was exuding as he waited for his answer with baited breath, probably already having several alternatives for what he was going to ask next depending on it.

“Hmm, well I suppose it is way past time I introduced myself!” he decided and got off of the sofa to stand in a fluid motion, something which would have made Dipper flinch and try to break into a run earlier when he had just woken up. Now he just found it surprising how graceful the other could be when moving. “Name’s Bill Cipher, kid.” He started and the grin on his lips seemed to extend further than it should have been natural. Dipper could feel danger and excitement rumbling through the air and through his skin like small pin-prickles of emotion. His heartbeat sped up along with a strange surge of adrenaline as he watched the man now standing in front of him. 

Bill…

“But for meatbags and lower beings I go by Pharaoh, the morning and the evening star, one of the original Demons that came into existence before you fleshbags were even graced with such a thing as spiritual energy!” The sudden power that had let itself fall on the room seemed to be pushing down on Dipper and he was quite sure he wasn’t doing too well taking in all of the information that was being thrown at him either…”As for your question, I am a Dream Demon. I dwell in the mind and within the Mindscape. I’m also a Demon of Knowledge, I know more than anyone else in existence, kid! Simply put, I know lots of things! I know things since the beginning of time, I know things that would make you retch your guts out, how to gain immortality, how to kill in ways you couldn’t even imagined, how to save someone from going into limbo and even some things about the future.” Bill certainly knew lots of things, things most couldn’t even phantom, though he would admit the future one was tricky. Seeing into the future was hard and the only things he could see were probabilities rather than the actual future set in stone but it was as close to seeing into it as anyone would ever get and for that he deserved his praise. Plus, he was rarely wrong! 

For example, the chances of a Demon having a soulmate were very slim and the chances of finding them even slimmer! Bill would know as he had been into existence since before time and hadn’t found his. Most likely he didn’t have one, which was perfectly fine, if a bit unfortunate. Now, soulmates were made out to be this big thing everywhere and Bill actually had to agree with them because, excluding the general emotional attachments and mushy package that came with it, if two soulmates found each other the energy and power they would gain by being with each other was incredible. It was mouth-watering really. Bill had no need for a soulmate, he already was one of the most powerful beings alive, but he had always been on the greedy side so if only for power he would have wanted one. At one point he had thought he had one because when he tried to look into the future there was certainly a spark of sorts there which he assumed was it – it was tricky and hard to describe but he knew it was there and he was never wrong about knowing things. 

However, as time went on he decided that perhaps it might have been something else. 

Perhaps just a normal bond or who-knows-what incident, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Plus, he didn’t want to be one of those Demons that spent their whole existence searching for their other half, it was a waste of time and he really wished he had kept his mouth shut about that vision instead of telling Will. Being his complete opposite meant that if Bill had a soulmate, Will did too. Technically, Will’s soulmate should have been the counterpart of Bill’s if that was the case. Bill’s counterpart was such a hopeless romantic and dwelled so much in emotions that it took very little to make him cry – whether from sadness or happiness, sometimes Bill would have trouble figuring out what the hell had happened when entering a room and finding him crying because the other could barely talk…and probably because Bill felt about to tear everyone’s neck from their shoulders and incinerate them depending on Will’s answer. Regardless, he had told Will and couldn’t take it back so now that ninny of a Demon was continuously looking for his soulmate with a patience that drove Bill insane! He wasn’t even looking for power, Will just wanted a soulmate for the mushy package, which ultimately baffled Bill. 

Yes, Bill knew lots of things. 

Emotions were just excluded from that category.

And perhaps it was because of that that he wasn’t quite sure what Dipper was thinking right then. He could, however, tell through the bond that there was one too many emotions swirling about – hell, it almost made his head spin and he was pretty sure that wasn’t possible with being a Demon and dead and all. And truly, Dipper’s mind wasn’t sure in what direction to go right then as it sorted through everything Bill had told him. Considered logically, Dipper had only gotten basic information: name, position in society – could that even be called society if it was literally above all normal societies and beings? – and race. However, it felt like a train had just run him over. Pharaoh was definitely not a title Dipper heard often and he had the feeling that it was exactly what Bill described it as in whatever plane of existence, dimension or world Bill dwelled in – Dipper really had to ask and get his terminology straight – and that alone was quite terrifying. What was even more so was that Bill was a Demon.

A Demon.

The moment that word had come into the room his mind had instantly took him to everything Ford had told him about Demons…which was surprisingly exceedingly little. Dipper barely knew anything about Demons because whenever the topic had arisen Ford would either go on a tangent about something else or would hold him a three hour lecture – or more, never underestimate Ford and a lecture on the dangers of Demons – about not dealing with them and how dangerous and horrible they could be, about everything they could do to you…he might have gone a bit too into detail once when lecturing both him and Mabel because Dipper clearly remembered not wanting to go to bed. He also remembered Mabel having nightmares and Stan making Ford sleep on the couch for weeks as punishment for scaring the children. Regardless, however he turned it in his mind he knew very little about Demons and had just found out that he had been interacting with one for almost half of his life. It wasn’t just a Demon though, but an original one. From what little Dipper could recall of what Ford told him, original Demons came into existence before other Demons and compared to them were not bound to one dimension or plane of existence, they were much more dangerous and much more powerful – how Ford had found that out was a mystery to Dipper but he wasn’t about to question his mentor, that never turned out well. 

Strangely…Dipper was feeling conflicted if he should fear the one in front of him or not. On one side everything the man had said basically screamed at him to run, but on the other hand he knew Bill well. He had known him for nine years and by then Bill could have killed him and done as he wished with him if he wanted to, but he hadn’t. For all of Ford’s lamentations and warnings, Dipper didn’t feel disgusted or as if he should run from Bill. Was there the feeling of most likely getting killed somewhere along the way? Yes, definitely, but Dipper had grown accustomed to that from the clearing and, sometimes, from the moods that would come unbidden and take over parts of the house or the Shack, though those were rare. Sure, he was afraid but Dipper generally worried too much and was afraid of more things than he could count. That didn’t mean he actively avoided them and he knew that despite that fear Bill wouldn’t hurt him. What reason would he have to? The energy in the room still made his blood rush with adrenaline but it was a familiar sensation. 

Plus, it wasn’t as if Ford hadn’t been mistaken before! Yes, Ford wrote the journals and had definitely had more interaction with supernatural creatures than Dipper but when it came down to actually speaking to them the man was a mess. Dipper was sure he was doing this best, but emotions were not Ford’s forte and diplomacy was nowhere in Stanley’s dictionary. When it came down to it Dipper had made more discoveries on the supernatural by befriending some of the creatures than Ford had done by researching them through conventional means. Admittedly, some were a bit iffy on that, there were creatures that simply had very strange ways of ‘befriending’ and being acquainted with someone, for example the manotaurs wouldn’t turn their back on you but they were a pouting mess if you refused to do like they wanted you to and the gnomes were actually pleasant until you brought up a queen or relationships (Dipper let Mabel deal with that). Who was to say that where Ford had failed to gain insight on Demons and interact with them, Dipper wouldn’t prevail? In a way he kind of had already since he and Bill knew each other since he had first arrived in town. 

Even so, this whole situation was pretty intimidating.

It was one thing to meet a normal Demon, it was something completely different to meet one of the originals. Dipper could understand why Bill chose to use the title of Pharaoh if only to show his status among others, it made sense. The nobility and royals wouldn’t really mix with the common folk either so they had titles to set them apart. For humans that made little sense since it was the exact same race, but for Demons, Dipper could see how it would hold more value. It was the same race, but from what he had gathered the originals could be a separate category all on their own…

“How come you chose ‘Pharaoh’?” Dipper asked, having lost his earlier questions somewhere along the way as new ones bubbled up and he picked the first one that came to his mind. Bill seemed pleased enough by it. “I mean if you’re an original why would you choose that one? How come your name is Bill? I thought Demons had their own language?” He sounded uncertain and he really couldn’t be certain. He had caught hints from some of Ford’s lectures but nothing solid. 

“One question at a time, Pine Tree.” Bill pointed out and Dipper felt himself flush. “But since you’re in a bit of a shock, I’ll ignore that and clear things up for you. We do have our own language, but if I were to tell you my true name you’d evaporate to dust with an expression of horror and ecstasy on your face. Which would be fun and all, Pine Tree, but I think being alive looks good on you! And it’d ruin the rug.” The Demon pointed out almost casually while Dipper barely kept back from making a face at the thought. He felt considerably paler though, if that was even possible. Seriously, the moment some colour returned to his cheeks he somehow managed to go pale because of something the Demon said. Bill had no idea what was up with this kid. “And I chose Pharaoh because that’s where I first created a meatbag for myself and it’s the only title I think really puts my position across. Plus, Egypt is a lovely place. You’d like it there Pine Tree, though the heat might not sit well with you.” If anything, Dipper preferred the rainy days when he could hear it rap on the windows and stay inside reading without a care in the world. Bill thought he looked most content then. “However,” The word almost sounded dangerous and it had Dipper furrowing his brows as if he expected something to happen when the Demon brought his hand up – he wouldn’t put it past him. “In view of the circumstances, I’ll allow you to call me Bill!” He decided and the dangerous expression he had been sporting for a moment seemed to disappear and be replaced with that grin which Dipper was quickly getting used to. It suited Bill well and was just as peculiar as him with just a dose of creepy. 

“What circumstances?” Dipper asked, feeling a bit dumb since Bill made it sound as if it was as obvious as the couch he was sitting on. He really must have been slow that day…

“Well, we are married, Pine Tree.” 

If Dipper was starting to feel better, he could almost hear his mind come to a screeching halt right then. Married. Yes, they were married…he had recited his vows in the blasted forest and they were married. “Married?” So why wasn’t his mind catching up to his thoughts? 

Bill was having a hard time keeping the amusement off of his face though he was sure Dipper could feel it the same way he felt the boy’s sudden distress at the word. “In the woods, you said your vows so perfectly.” Bill gushed, watching as Dipper’s expression became absolutely mortified. 

“I did?” The boy’s voice was literally a squeak, it was almost as bad as when he was twelve years old. Dipper had been so caught up in the pleasant conversation and so happy to talk to the one he had been interacting with for so long, someone who had been a sort of silent friend and who was part of the supernatural as well, that he had completely forgotten about the woods and the ring. About the whole marriage. His mind finally caught up to him. “I did.” Bill couldn’t hold back any longer, he burst out laughing at Dipper’s bafflement, which resulted in the boy turning red to the tips of his ears in pure embarrassment. 

Finally, Bill got his laughing under control and sat himself down right next to Pine Tree, crossing his legs as he sat in the middle of the couch. He was glad to see Pine Tree didn’t flinch or pull away, though that might have simply been him still trying to process the word ‘married’. Kid seemed to have issues with that. Then again, most humans had issues with that word. “Yes, you see we have a little problem there.” 

“You have no idea…” Dipper ground out, feeling his stomach churning all over again even if he was sure there was nothing in his stomach left to actually churn except for perhaps his organs.

Bill ignored him as he continued speaking. “You see, Demons don’t have the concept of marriage – it holds no value for us, the whole thing is flawed and made only for the sake of society while the wedding part is just some stupid ritual in front of no one since Gods don’t exist.” Any other time, the brunet would have loved to question Bill on the bigger questions of the universe, about Gods and spirits and Demons, but right then he actually held more interest in the part of the discussion referring to their marriage. If it had no meaning to Demons didn’t that mean theirs was ultimately invalidated on the spot? Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t that simple. “We do, however, have the concept of soul bonds and soulmates.” 

Somehow that sounded ten times more complicated. 

“Where are you going with this?” The human was almost afraid to ask at this point, but Bill only grinned at him before continuing as if he hadn’t even spoken.

“When you proposed in the clearing,” Dipper wanted to contradict him but he was sure he had lost his voice all over again. “You managed to bind your soul to mine – well, I wouldn’t really call it a soul, more like the essence of one’s being but those are just technicalities!” Bill watched the boy for a reaction and wasn’t disappointed as Dipper bit down on his lower lip and seemed to momentarily struggle with his next question. 

“What does that mean exactly?” His tone was a little impatient by this point. Suddenly, marriage was a far away thought. He couldn’t even say he didn’t want to propose or anything of the sort because whatever he had done had resulted in this and right now all he wanted was to find out just what exactly he had gotten himself into because he couldn’t quite see a way out of it. The least he could do was assess the damage. 

“Why, I’m glad you asked, Pine Tree!” Bill’s grin was positively devilish as he looked at him with that golden eye. “It’s simple really! You already know what a deal is, right?” 

The boy nodded. “A deal is an agreement between two parts usually involving an exchange of things they consider equivalent in value.” Dipper wasn’t quite sure how to put the next part nicely. “Demons make deals and trick humans to gain energy and power, right?”

Bill didn’t seem to be affected or insulted though, he actually seemed quite pleased. It was almost a sweet sensation around the room…Dipper could almost feel pride around him but he wasn’t sure he was able to give in and enjoy that with everything that was going on. “Exactly and yes, we do. A soul bond is a sort of deal. The idea of it is that you, as the human, give your soul to me to do as I wish with it.” Pine Tree looked paler than a new arrival right about then and Bill was not exaggerating. Sometimes he really worried for the kid’s health though he knew it took much more than a few surprising facts and a good scuffle to get to the boy. “I can pull energy from it and use it to increase my own power whenever I want.” 

There was a pause as Dipper seemed to take in this new information and watched the Demon as if expecting him to be lying to him. In the end, he decided Bill really didn’t have any reason to be lying to him. “Then,” he gulped, steeling himself for the next set of questions he was about to ask. “What do I get?” If a deal was between two parts and this was a sort of deal it only made sense that if Bill got full access to his soul – which was a terrifying thought – then Dipper would get something in exchange. 

“Whatever you want, Pine Tree.” 

That couldn’t be right…

“What do you mean whatever I want?” The words came out almost as a tentative snap, aggravation building up. He just wanted a straight answer, he had grown tired of guesses and hints. 

“As I said, kid, whatever you want. Gold, slaves, riches, a house, screaming heads, warmth, deer teeth, the massacre of a kingdom, all the good stuff.” Dipper really failed to see in what mentality half of those were ‘good stuff’. He didn’t seem to believe Bill either, but the Demon had already expected that. “For example,” A smirk adorned his features and he reached out, pulling on the sweater Dipper was wearing. “This.” The boy blinked and looked down on himself. He hadn’t really taken the time to look at himself after he had woken up and now that he did he could say that if he had looked like a mess after leaving the dusty room earlier that day, then he wasn’t even sure what Mabel would think of him now. 

Speaking of Mabel, what the hell was he wearing!? 

He could understand why his suit was wet, stained and covered in mud, he could even understand why it was probably torn here and there from the time where he had been running away through the woods and had tripped and fallen down. However, he had no idea how he had come to be wearing a sweater – especially this one! He made a face. “Why am I wearing a dark red and pink sweater with a, uh,” He pulled on the edges of the sweater to get a better look at the design and Bill pulled his hand back to allow him a better look. “With a unicorn on it.” This sweater screamed Mabel so much that if he had worn this in public they could have passed off as identical twin sisters with the right adjustments. It was definitely not something Dipper himself would have worn if he would have gotten to choose. Sweaters were generally Mabel’s thing. Dipper liked them from time to time when it was cold outside so he could wear them around the house but he didn’t consider them all that practical for when he went into the woods, nor fit for when going to meetings or socials.

“Actually, it’s burgundy and magenta.” 

A Demon with a fashion sense, just what he needed.

“What does this have to do with anything? And, again, why am I wearing it?” he asked, a bit impatiently. He debated pulling it off but he still felt cold and the sweater was providing a bit of warmth which he wanted to cling to. 

“It’s what you wanted.” Dipper did not take well to Bill’s vague answers and it was easy to see by the look he gave him. Bill just found it too amusing to pass up. “When you were running away and almost getting yourself killed by tripping over twigs.” Dipper actually rolled his eyes at that but didn’t interrupt if only because he knew Bill might not continue if he did. “Before you passed out one of your thoughts was that you were cold and you must have been thinking of Shooting Star for me to have summoned up that sweater for you.” He pointed out, gesturing to the colourful sweater. It was a bit of a roundabout way of explaining, but Dipper was starting to see what the Demon meant when he said he got whatever he wanted, but even then there were a few things that didn’t quite add up. 

“Alright, I get the sweater, but how come I’m still freezing if what you say is true.” He pushed, bringing up his right hand to move alongside his left arm as if that would help preserve some heat. Sure, there was a fire nearby but it didn’t do much for him, it just wasn’t enough and probably wouldn’t be whatever the case since his clothes were still drying up. 

“Now, that’s your fault Pine Tree!” Dipper knew he had been the one going through the rain and everything but he had a feeling that wasn’t what Bill meant. “I can use your soul energy if you allow me to. Theoretically, I have full access to it but it’s much easier for both sides if you just let me, but since you didn’t recognize me from the start you kind of closed up and I wasn’t able to do much. You see, the closer the two sharing the soul bond are the stronger the power they have. The sweater and fire was as far as I got earlier so I made the rest myself.” Dipper was starting to detest the one question rule Bill had imposed at the start of their conversation but at least he was getting some answers even if most just made thousands of other questions pop up. However, Bill interrupted him before he got to make his next inquiry. “How about we give it a go?” 

Did he mean magic? 

Before Dipper could protest or even comprehend what was happening, blue flames were licking at his arms and legs and quickly making their way up on his body. He expected them to burn him, he expected there to be smoke and he definitely expected some sort of foul smell and a lot of pain, but instead he found himself blinking a moment later when no pain came, neither from the fire nor from Bill using magic. He could feel a soft thrum of energy but it didn’t hurt as if Bill was ripping off energy. More so it felt as if there was a connection, the one that made him feel as if Bill’s presence was permeating his skin and being rather than just being around him, and that connection was thrumming and releasing energy around it. Dipper found the sensation of wet clothes had disappeared. Instead of cold his skin felt warm…Looking down on himself he noticed his socks were gone – he was pretty sure he hadn’t had shoes when he had woken up, they must have been taken off – and replaced with fluffy long woollen socks instead. He was wearing dark blue pajama pants and a fluffy light blue sweater with a dark blue Pine Tree in the middle. Speaking of which…”Does my name just dictate that I need to smell like a forest to you?” he asked, sniffing at his wrist. He definitely smelled like pines.

“Yes!” Bill answered, seeming quite pleased with his choice of scent for the boy.

He reached a hand up and realized his hair wasn’t wet anymore either. It was dry, soft and curly at the tips as if he had just gotten out of the bathroom a while ago. Instinctively, he made sure his bangs were covering his forehead before another smell hit his nose. He turned his brown eyes to his right to see a long coffee table which hadn’t been there before, food and hot chocolate on it. His stomach growled and he realized he was actually starving. Compared to Bill, he did need to eat. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Pine Tree.” Dipper carefully reached over for the hot chocolate and let his speeding heart steady itself while his hands warmed up from the steaming cup. “As you can see, nothing bad is going to happen when I use magic.” Dipper gave the Demon a nod. It was a very weird situation but from what Bill made it out to be, this actually wasn’t so bad. What was perhaps worrying was that Bill was still a Demon and while he had only used his magic for his wants up until then, who was to say what he would want to use his soul’s energy for later on. “Next question, Pine Tree!” Perhaps he was tired by now, but Dipper had almost forgotten about his questions. It must have been the sudden warmth and the hot chocolate. 

Even so, he didn’t miss a beat. 

“Before when I went to the clearing I could feel your presence there. It’s uhm, more pronounced here. Is that because you’re here in person” Or corpse, but it was a physical form anyway. “Or because of the soul bond?” The words sounded weird on his tongue. He took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate and found it was good, just a little sweetened up as he liked it. He made a pleasant hum as he drank some of it, the warmth spreading thorough his chest.

“It’s because of the soul bond, kind of obvious by the name. You’re able to tell my moods – like before – and I’m actually able to read you a bit better too!” In truth, it was actually very strange that Dipper had even felt his presence in the clearing. Bill had often played around with the idea as to why that was possible but there hadn’t ever been an obvious answer to it. Dipper shouldn’t have been able to enter the clearing nor feel his presence but he made it quite obvious that he did. The kid even tried talking to him and communicating through writing – it was amusing seeing him try all sorts of languages and ciphers in truth – but Bill found himself unable to do anything to answer in return. 

After a while, Bill had just taken it for granted. Now that their souls were bonded together though, he could take a guess that it was because of Dipper’s soul. The boy didn’t have any sort of formidable presence generally so it was hard to guess if he had a bright soul or not but since they were now tied together Bill could definitely tell quite a bit about it. It was a surprisingly bright soul in truth, if not a bit sensitive and fragile, it held a lot of empathy and radiated a soft warmth that got stronger when he was happy or near people he liked. Bill relished in the energy he could probably pull from it, plus Pine Tree himself wasn’t half bad as company! He had actually grown to like the kid with time. Bill already knew all of the boy’s little quirks, the moods he got in and he liked how he read his moods so easily but didn’t necessarily bend to them, it added to the fun. Since he had a bright soul Bill figured that the boy’s perceptiveness must have been heightened so it wouldn’t have been unusual for him to feel Bill’s presence in the clearing…at least that was the most likely theory.

“Where are we right now?” Came the next question. 

“Your quarters.” 

Dipper blinked and stopped drinking his hot chocolate. Decisively, he should never eat while talking to Bill if this was how conversations went, he’d find himself choking sooner or later. “This isn’t my room. What do you mean my ‘quarters’?” he asked, becoming increasingly suspicious as a feeling of dread seemed to sneak up on him from the catacombs of his mind.

“Kid, if we’re soul bond that means we should stay close – get to know each other and all that. Usually, I wouldn’t mind going to the land of the living and staying there, but I’m kind of stuck in this form for now and you meatsacks don’t appreciate this aesthetic however nice I dress so we’ll just be staying in the land of the dead for now.” Dipper felt warm in his current state but Bill’s words made a chill start to spread through his body despite the temperature of the room and the cosy sweater he had been given. “I made sure you can breathe and you will have whatever you want so no worries there. But, to answer your questions, you’re in the land of the dead. No, you are not dead. Yes, these are your quarters – you have this room, a bedroom, a bathroom and a small library. No, you are not necessarily restricted to staying in them but you would be safest in them even if I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt whatever happens – I don’t let people touch my things. You may be in the land of the dead but Demons and supernatural creatures roam here just as they do up there and since I hold my court here you’ll see more of them than usual. You’re free to come to court whenever you want though! There’s a bar and everything!”

Any other time Dipper might have debated what kind of court even had a bar but that was overshadowed by deeper worries. The cup of hot cocoa was placed back on the coffee table, making a loud clack as it hit the glass surface. “I can’t stay here!” he protested and Bill seemed thoroughly unimpressed as he watched him. “I need to get back to Mabel and Grunkle Stan and great uncle Ford! They’ll be worried if I don’t return, I don’t even know how long I’ve been out.”

The Demon got up from his seat without hurry. He didn’t seem to be listening to a word Dipper was saying. “Pine Tree.” He said and Dipper stopped talking, a knot in his throat. The pressure of the room suddenly increased and he could feel fear grasping at his heart as if there were actual claws sinking into it. The Demon placed a hand on the backrest of the couch and leaned in close. Dipper felt his heartbeat quicken and his breath cut itself off. His eyes widened in fear as they had done when he had first seen Bill and, just like on the bridge, all he could see was that one honeyed eye staring at him. It was nowhere as sweet as its colour dictated…

“I never said you had a choice.” 

The crackling of the fire was the only noise in the room…ominous and suffocating in a room that seemed completely empty.

Deciding the boy understood, Bill pulled himself away from the couch and started walking towards the hearth. “I’ll leave you to eat and get some rest now! You can find everything you need here.” He told him once he was near the hearth. “Also, I’ll be locking the door for now since I don’t want you pulling some stupid stunt.”

Dipper’s eyes widened in horror. 

“See you later, kid!” 

There was a burst of blue flames and Dipper had to shield his eyes from the intensity. When Dipper finally looked up, Bill was gone. He was gone and Dipper was still in the same lavish living room, dressed in pajamas of blue while gold and red hues painted the room… The furniture was still made of dark wood with old intricacies, the doors from earlier stood waiting and there was delicious food laid out on the coffee table near a half empty mug of hot cocoa. 

The only sound was the warm crackling of the fire and Dipper’s loud heartbeat.

The living should not be in the realm of the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished, I have a headache and I really should get some sleep. 
> 
> Also, Bill is not being helpful and was a complete thorn in my side the other day to the point that I had to rewrite 4000 words because of him. Thankfully, he was more cooperative today so here you go. 
> 
> As I said, this won't be exactly like Corpse Bride and I'm clearly very much deviating right now but this is what I had in mind so I can just hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Credits for the soul bond and soulmate idea go to me and my cute billdip roleplay partner, Nicole! 
> 
> Enjoy! ^O^/


	6. Violets, Wine and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is going to be a good day.

Harshly, grievous drops of rain drummed against the clear glass. The double windows of the drawing room allowed them more space than was comfortable to the viewers, light harsh and white as it entered the Northwest manor in a cruel fashion, painting the room almost grotesquely and reflecting upon the small glass figures settled on the windowsill. The rain hadn’t eased up on its thunderous cry at all since it had begun, droplets hitting the ground in rapid succession, harsher and harder, whipping the ground and all of the beings underneath with fury. It was as if it was punishing them with a whip of nature’s force, accompanied like a ghost by a wind so chilling your bones clacked together in your body as soon as it grasped you in its claws. Mabel would have been able to tell you exactly how merciless it was as she was shivering by the time they made it back to the mansion, even if her Grunkle had given her his coat to wear till they arrived. 

He had insisted when they were in the carriage that a lady should not be shivering or in discomfort, especially not his grandniece! The cold didn’t seem to bother him but she was sure he was probably uncomfortable and would have been trembling if not for the pure stubbornness that kept him going. It would have probably happened sooner or later if Ford hadn’t insisted the man took his coat in exchange if he was to give his to Mabel. There had been a short little disagreement between the two before Ford wrestled the man into his coat. They might have been making more noise than they had originally thought – since this was a normal occurrence to them – for they unwillingly caused the carriage to stop for a few minutes as the man leading it was confused as to what could have possibly caused such a ruckus – and several startled screams of ‘hot Belgian waffles’. After Mabel assured the gentleman that it was nothing, and Ford backed her up – though the way he was on top of Stanley and holding his hands behind his back as if he was under arrest didn’t help their case – the man finally returned to his place and had them continue on their way, a bit dazed from what he had just witnessed. 

Mabel guessed he didn’t get too many interesting people in his carriage. 

And so it was that they made it to the mansion, Mabel wearing Stanley’s cloak and Stanley wearing Ford’s in exchange. Surprisingly enough, Stanford didn’t look cold at all or even in slight discomfort as he sat patiently in the carriage and waited for them to arrive at their destination. Mabel guessed it was because of all of the supernatural creatures he dealt with, which made him more used to such discomforting environments and situations…Yes, definitely so. After all, if that hadn’t been the case than how would one explain the occasions when he’d come back completely covered in some strange substance or another and go directly to his study to note things down or experiment on it, if not both? If it hadn’t been for his family Ford might have just gotten himself killed several times by then simply by being too engrossed in his work. 

Usually, it was Stanley who saw his brother coming in or hurrying up to his room while looking like a train wreck of a human being. By then he had already gotten into the habit of calling onto someone else to take over the Shack for him for a while as he made sure his twin was alright. This usually involved making sure Ford got himself straightened out, cleaned up and clear of any and all questionable items clinging to him. It wasn’t necessarily as easy of a job as it sounded. Really, one couldn’t expect it to be with everything that Ford got himself involved in! Usually this whole process either went really well or really bad, depending on how set on his research the bookworm of the older twins was. Every once in a while Ford would just have come home like that from some random expedition and admit to having not noticed it – how you didn’t notice yourself being completely covered in extra-terrestrial goo and having all sorts of other strange things or beings stuck to you was a mystery in itself. Mabel assumed it was the same way she didn’t notice when she was full of paints every once in a while, just that those didn’t leave rashes or other aftereffects that could endanger your health in their wake if you didn’t take care of them.

Other times – or rather, most times – Ford would be too caught up in whatever he was doing and obstinately against Stanley interrupting him so the Pines home ended up being the host of many of their ‘it’s time for a bath’ matches. In the end Stanley always won if only by sheer determination and because Ford was still tired from whatever he had been doing before – thankfully. Really, it was such a normal occurrence that the twins just heard the series of bangs and random swears and knew, as they would know some random merchant or friend who passed by every so often. They’d often return to whatever they were up to without bothering with the noises from their grunkles but they had settled on taking turns in checking exactly what happened once everything seemed to have calmed down. 

In truth, that was Dipper’s idea because he didn’t trust either of his grunkles to take care of themselves and, whatever her protests, Mabel had to agree in the end…it was hard to disagree after that one time they had come over and found Stanley and Stanford somehow glued to each other while covered in weird green substances. Those two had been lucky their grandnephew and grandniece had their own ideas on how to deal with such sticky situations, so a couple of bottles of paint thinner later, along with a concoction or another Dipper had dug up from some of his books, the two were free and cleaned up once again. Not that that saved them from the scolding they got from Dipper and Mabel before they were sent to their room by the younger twins with a firm ‘Think about what you did!’ from Mabel and a disappointed look from Dipper as he shook his head. 

Really, sometimes you’d think they were the adults of the house, not their grunkles... 

Occasionally, it happened that Stanley would be too busy or not notice. In those cases Mabel would often hear Dipper call out to her from downstairs and after a few very long and begrudging minutes of talking to Stanford they would manage to get him away from his work. This mostly included the condition of Dipper noting down whatever had happened or at least some notes on whatever Ford was covered in – Mabel was almost afraid to ask but her brother just smiled as if it was normal and got to work, giving her a reassuring look – while Mabel threatened to call Stanley and help him move Ford away from there forcefully if the man didn’t get himself cleaned right that instance. For all of her colourfulness and cheer, Mabel could be quite scary and imposing when she wanted to, even more so than Stanford. Dipper had once noted that she and grunkle Ford both did that with only slight differences – which had ended up with Mabel trying to get Ford mad to see if they looked similar. That had been a very…stressful day for the rest of the family. 

Actually, today wasn’t good either. In many ways it was downright horrible, bad luck just seemed to be glued up to them. Everyone was quite down after the wedding rehearsal though admittedly each of them was battling with their own feelings over it. After all, one could feel disappointment but that never came unaccompanied. On the contrary, misery loved company and all of the emotions swirling about from each person did nothing for the others. Mabel was still having a hard time believing all of this wasn’t a nightmare, she couldn’t believe everything that had just happened. Things couldn’t have gotten worse even if they had been rehearsed! And the ring! The thought almost haunted her. How could Dipper have forgotten the ring!? Of all possible things to forget…the ring was an essential part of any wedding, it was what you thought of when you said ‘wedding’ except for perhaps white gowns, bouquets of flowers and pretty decorations. But what would Dipper know of that? Dipper had never cared for weddings, when she had asked him he had said a small wedding would suit him just fine, something nice with only him and the person he loved. Sure, that was all nice and peachy even if Mabel would have preferred something completely different, something grand, but even that needed a ring!

She had placed it in his pocket all nice and snug too…and yet, she had been the one to make the small teasing comment that had led to him changing his coat and ruining their last fickle chance of having even a bit of hope that this wedding might go well. She still felt very frustrated over everything – the wedding, the marriage, the rehearsal, that blasted bell Preston kept fiddling with – but at the same time she was very worried for Dipper. Dipper was never good under stress, at least not in social situation. The boy could take down a whole pack of manotaurs with the right items and have them captured and wrapped in a bow for you if you needed him to but couldn’t for the life of him deal with girls trying to flirt with him. You’d think his bravery and intelligence with the supernatural would translate into something else while in public situations but nope. Nothing! Nada! As the day progressed Mabel kept finding her sighs becoming more and more frequent, despite her usual cheerfulness. 

She couldn’t help but keep thinking back to what had happened and how everything had gone from hopeful and colourful, from all of her wonderful plans and pictures to horrible, grey and rainy. If it was like this for her, she could only imagine how it was for Dipper who hadn’t wanted this from the very beginning. To Dipper who had hated this since the moment they had told him and had just barely kept his little façade up for them. Perhaps he fooled everyone else but Mabel knew best, she knew Dipper hadn’t been too happy today, she knew he had been a bit out of it and perhaps she wasn’t sure of all of his reasons but she could tell. They had grown apart as they had grown up but she could still tell his moods well, even if not as well as when they were younger. Perhaps they didn’t share the same room anymore or dwelt in the same interests but they still cared deeply for each other and the brunette couldn’t help but wonder if her other half was alright right then. 

She knew he wasn’t. 

They had decided that sending him home to practice his vows would be the best solution and there hadn’t been any retorts, but Mabel knew along with her grunkles that that had been one of the most useless decisions. The only reason it had passed was because Preston had proposed it and because they all could have used some time away from each other. Perhaps it wasn’t really Dipper’s fault for everything that had happened but it sure seemed as if he had messed things up on purpose then and his family couldn’t quite deal with that thought. Dipper knew his vows, it was impossible that he didn’t! Mabel knew her brother could remember her conversations word for word – if only to argue with her when he was suspicious of someone she was seeing – it was impossible that he hadn’t memorized his vows before the rehearsal! And even if not, he would have gotten them right after the first repetition of the pastor…but he hadn’t. He hadn’t and everything had gone down the drain as soon as Pacifica followed through with her own broken vows and the ring was discovered to be missing. Even now, Mabel could bet her favourite pair of fluffy socks that Dipper wasn’t even practicing his vows. What Dipper really seemed to need was a talking to from his family so they could clear this whole thing up and figure out why everything had gone so horribly, not to go home and practice something he already knew. Mabel didn’t doubt that once they got home and got some rest Dipper would be summoned down so they could have a family talk about what had happened. 

But for now they had to go deal with the postponement of the wedding…

Stanley was also fuming as they made their way to the mansion, too caught up in his worries to even grumble about Ford’s stubbornness regarding the coat. Having been the one who had arranged this he felt as if he was responsible for it and now everything had gone to hell! It wasn’t even as if he could hold it all against Dipper, because for all of the trouble he had caused, Stanley was the one who best understood how it was to be put in a situation you hated or to be anxious over screwing something up to the point of making it ten times worse. He could only assume that was what had happened as to not let himself be truly angry at the boy for the stunt he had pulled. The thought was almost comforting but the man couldn’t help but still feel resentful, if not slightly vexed, by what had happened. The boy was smart, he had never been one to be played for a fool, he would be getting married to an heiress and then he could live a happy family life alongside a beautiful lady in a nice house somewhere. He’d be warm and cosy and happy, he’d have someone to look over him and care, and perhaps his own little ankle-biters soon enough! What more did the boy want? Dipper surely wasn’t worried about wealth, he was intelligent and could find quite a few places to work at or even follow in Stanford’s steps and write or do research, things he would probably have preferred. Seriously, sometimes Stanley wondered what even went on in that mind of his because he failed to see how the boy’s chain of thought worked. 

In truth, Stanley couldn’t help but blame his twin for the way the boy thought, even if he knew it was wrong. It was because of Stanford that Dipper had gotten so deeply involved with the supernatural and every weird thing around him though and if he did research Stanley could only hope it wouldn’t be on the supernatural. Obviously, it probably would but if Stanford put his foot down, maybe there was a chance Dipper would think about doing something else. Stanley just hoped this wasn’t wishful thinking as it had been when Dipper had first arrived at their doorstep. He knew that whatever he would have done back then, he wouldn’t have been able to keep Dipper away from the supernatural, not after he had gotten involved in it in his first year when visiting them. The boy was up to his neck in the supernatural not even a week into his stay for heaven’s sake! And on top of that he was a literal magnet for it! Stanley could call him that and not even be joking, he had grounded him for about two weeks at one point and in two weeks they had had more supernatural attacks and problems than they would have usually had in two months. 

Now, Stanley was not a superstitious man. 

However, while a few supernatural attacks which could be brushed off and passed on to people as attractions were fine, he drew the line when a whole damn hoard of pixies came flying towards them out of thin air, a zombie army rose out of the ground not even a day later and several explosions happened in the house from random ‘experiments’ and ‘incantations’, not to mention the random appearances of other creatures! It was more frustrating that as soon as Stanley lifted the punishment the attacks seemed to stop…and instead the boy almost got himself killed – again. Stanley had no idea what he’d do with Dipper so, in the end, he had decided to leave him to Ford, though even that was only begrudgingly. He wanted to keep his family safe, especially Dipper and Mabel who had only been children at that point. He couldn’t though, not when Dipper was so different from him while being just as stubborn. At least his twin would keep a better eye on him while also teaching him to defend himself against…against whatever those things they were fighting were called, because Stanley couldn’t be bothered to learn all of their technical names like his life-partner did. If it could be punched and dealt with Stanley didn’t need more, just as long as his family was safe. 

Dipper had never quite taken to boxing or fighting like Stanley either, he didn’t like or find pleasure in it. Stanley still remembered when he had tried to teach him a few basics and he had failed miserably. The boy knew what he had to do but when it came down to it, it just didn’t go that well and spending time on training seemed a complete waste to Dipper when he could be reading – something which the boy had continuously made clear to his grunkle during the whole process. Despite that, Dipper had come to be able to work all of Ford’s machines and weapons and even Stanley’s own stack of weapons, which was an impressive feat. Mabel couldn’t do that, she couldn’t work out all of those stupid buttons on Ford’s machines with several combinations for just one action and who knows how many passwords and ciphers and other things that made your head spin! Nope, she couldn’t do that…but she could punch a man unconscious and was lethal with normal weapons – Stanley could have cried with pride, which he had but he wouldn’t admit to it. He just had something in his eye every so often when watching her fight was all! Dust! Yes, that’s all it was, a bit of dust in his eye. It wasn’t as if there was any shame in crying tears of joy! How couldn’t you when watching your grandniece beat the living daylights out of a unicorn? There wasn’t an image you could be prouder of! As proof, Stanley had the picture of Mabel fighting said unicorn framed and hanged proudly near his mirror.

But Dipper wasn’t Mabel. The two weren’t alike in the least. Dipper wasn’t really silly, he didn’t flirt that much, he didn’t like social situations and quickly grew tired of them, he didn’t like going out in society that much in general and he didn’t dream of a perfect marriage and other ‘normal’ things. Stanley could wish for the boy to be normal and like what others did all he liked, but he wasn’t and Stanley was starting to see he’d have to come to terms with that. All of this marriage business and the position in society, Stanley would have given anything for it at some point in his life but Dipper wasn’t like him. Dipper was more like Ford, as long as he could be studying the supernatural, getting himself in dangerous situations for the adrenaline and live a comfortable life, the boy was happy. It didn’t take much to make him happy. 

The problem was that Stanley could not accept that. It wasn’t normal to be cooped up all day! It wasn’t normal to get yourself hurt and make everyone worry and Stanley would not stand by and watch Dipper drive himself crazy with books and research as Ford had once done. He would not stand by and watch him waste his life on some manuscripts when he could have a pretty wife and a family to care for him, a healthy lifestyle and a comfortable home to live in. He would not stand by and watch him slowly descent into a decrepit lifestyle when he could make sure he ended up well, even if Dipper didn’t like it at first. He wanted a happy lifestyle for the kid, comfortable and with a family of his own, and he’d get it for him even if he had to force Dipper out of his comfort zone and drag him out of his room tied up and screaming murder. The boy could protest all he wanted but this was for his own good…

Even Ford thought so.

Perhaps others had been shocked that Ford had been the one to propose they arrange a marriage for Dipper and put a temporary stop to his research on the supernatural, but Stanley had only been worried, if not somewhat happy. If Ford of all people insisted they stopped Dipper from looking more into the supernatural it meant Dipper was already too far gone and they had to intervene while they still could. And they had. They really had. Stanley and Mabel had taken care of getting all of Dipper’s books, samples and items on the supernatural, storing them away in boxes and then placing them either in Ford’s study or the basement, depending on importance. Some were just old books anyhow, Stanley never saw their use that much but the two bookworms of their family always insisted that the ones in dead languages were the most important. 

Mabel had changed a few other things that had nothing to do with the supernatural as well because she thought Pacifica would like other objects or books better, but there had been frankly very little left in the room once everything ‘weird’ had been taken out. Dipper had looked positively torn apart when they had started taking his things away, things he had worked on writing, studying and creating for years, but he had kept his ground and refused to speak to them unless he absolutely had to after their first refusals to stop. He understood this would be happening regardless of his protests and the most he could do was keep back the satisfaction of them seeing him being torn inside by what they were doing. Stanley knew Dipper probably hated him right then, for destroying his room, for arranging the marriage and for the whole rehearsal catastrophe but it was for his own good and perhaps one day he’d see that and thank him. Hell, Stanley didn’t even care just as long as Dipper ended up happy.

He just had to give it time. 

It didn’t count if he hated him, as long as he’d be comfortable in the end it was fine. And Dipper would hate him. Dipper must have already hated him…Tearing his room apart was one thing but Dipper wasn’t stupid enough to believe it when they said they were just ‘temporarily’ removing things. He knew as well as any of them did that this ‘temporary’ wasn’t temporary at all. He knew it so well that when his brown eyes would settle on him, Stanley would find himself wanting the earth to swallow him whole from what he saw in them, a combination of anger, resentment and pain that should not have been in the eyes of someone so young. Stanford could meet Dipper’s eyes and talk to him directly about everything, return his retorts and put a stop to his protests, really the man lacked empathy when he was set on something; Mabel could look at Dipper and brush everything off while trying to make things better, smiling and making up jokes in hopes of having Dipper join in…Stanley couldn’t do either of those. He didn’t want to ever cause Dipper pain but if that was the price he had to pay for bringing him a better future, then he would. 

That never meant he could actually summon up the courage to meet his eyes though because they would tear him apart and had already caused him quite a few sleepless nights. Even Ford was starting to worry for him and Ford was definitely the top insomniac of their family with Dipper as a close second. As if to make up for the boy’s absence in the room, when they had stored everything away, the air had become horribly suffocating. They would go inside and start putting things in boxes but by the second box both he and Mabel were heaving and sweating as if they were doing hard labour, not moving some stupid books – though admittedly some might as well had been tomes – what the hell was Stanford having Dipper read!? 

Stanley had a very grim idea of why the air was pressing down on them but he refused to voice his thoughts. He ignored it, ignored the pressure, ignored the anger, ignored those brown eyes staring at him accusingly from the recesses of his mind, he ignored everything and got all that had to do with the supernatural out of there, the sooner the better…everything except that cursed red window. It had always been red. Stanley couldn’t remember even one point in his life when he had entered the room and the window had been any other colour, even Mabel had called it the ‘big bad red triangle’ or something similar before…and yet Ford always furrowed his brows at him when he said that before dismissing it as he would a bad thought. And perhaps it was a bad thought. Last time they had tried getting close to the window and taking it down the repercussions had been more than just a few pressuring moments in a room and neither Stanley nor Stanford were risking it. It didn’t matter anyway. Soon after the marriage Dipper and Pacifica could move in together and live happily somewhere else.

Somewhere away from the supernatural and ominous triangles. 

Upon their arrival at the mansion the droplets of rain were falling down like small needles, water falling from the top of the roof and all around the manor, building streams through passage ways, roads and the surrounding garden. It poured down furiously onto every surface it could reach. They had gotten out of the carriage and dashed inside quickly to escape the downpour, but just one second outside was more than enough to get them plenty wet. Mabel had been surprised to find out that the inside of the mansion was colder than the outside, her body shuddering in protest at the lower temperature joining the droplets of rain stuck to her hair and dress. Perhaps she had made a bad decision by not bringing a coat that day but it had seemed like it would be such a nice day…and then the rehearsal had happened. 

Perhaps the sky was trying to match their dark moods, but right about then Mabel would have given anything for some sunlight or even a few stray stars and a nice moon. Once again, the Northwests led them to the west drawing room, this time for business grimmer than before, and, as when they had first arrived, Pacifica was dismissed to her room. The girl was as silent as a scared rabbit and Mabel hadn’t heard her speak even in a whisper since they had left the chapel. Then again, no one really spoke much which was worrying enough. Even so, Mabel had caught Pacifica’s gaze just before entering the drawing room. Putting on an encouraging smile, she had lifted her hand and waved at the blonde girl. She wasn’t sure if Pacifica had caught the gesture because the heiress had turned away far too quickly once Mabel had caught her gaze, her pace clicking loudly against the marble floor as she disappeared from sight. 

“Mabel, come in and close the door, sweetie.” Her grunkle Stan had called out and she had followed everyone else inside, vaguely noting the butler had disappeared from where he had been sprawled on the floor that afternoon, cookies and crumbs cleaned up from the ground.

Spotless, as if they had never been there.

The drawing room was alight with a fire and warming up but the pounding of the rain resonated over the crackle of the fire with a vengeance, as if challenging the warmth to last. Mabel ignored the pounding of the rain in her ears and the crackling of the fire nearby in exchange for concentrating on the conversation. She found she didn’t like it. As expected, both sets of guardians apologized for their respective charge as if it was all their fault – basic manners, each more disgusting than the last as they looked down on both Dipper and Pacifica – before more displeasing matters were brought forth with the postponement of the wedding. The brunette did her very best to lighten things up and propose the best of ways to economize and make sure everyone knew about the postponement so no one would be too upset but she could have been spouting butterflies and rainbows for all the Northwests cared, their sour mood did not seem to leave. Her grunkles weren’t doing much better with their own moods and at one point Ford just put a stop to her chatter. He had done it gently by telling her she should leave it to them to take care of but it still hurt to know she couldn’t do anything about it, however nice her grunkle had been about it. Stanley placed a hand on her shoulder as reassurance and she gave him a smile. It came off a little forced but it was as sincere as she could manage right then.

The conversation lasted for a few very uncomfortable hours before all arrangements were somewhat made and they finally decided it was time to head back home. It was still pouring but the Northwests didn’t offer for them to wait the storm out and Mabel was happy they didn’t. She had become restless with everything that was going on, the pouring of the rain putting her on edge instead of calming her down. The grey rooms were depressing for all of their dim colours and with her already morose mood they only made her feel worse. She wanted to get home to her brother and her colourful room decorated with knick-knacks and beautiful paintings. If she stayed just a second more in this grey place with their mediocre paintings she felt as if she’d go insane! It might have been a bad day but she had tried her best till the end and at least for that she could be proud of herself. 

It hadn’t done much but she had tried. 

They all got back into a carriage and after a while of freezing on the way – Stanley’s coat kept her warm, just not warm enough – they finally arrived at their doorstep. Getting out of the carriage, Stanley unlocked the door – Dipper must have locked it, the boy was always paranoid – and they found themselves in the hall of their little home, wet and tired but happy to be back. The hall was warm and Mabel didn’t even think twice before taking off her shoes and saying her ‘Good night’s’ as she made her way to her room. Her grunkles didn’t question it, preoccupied with following in her footsteps and retiring for the night themselves. After everything that had happened none of them even bothered checking up on Dipper. The boy would have probably come to see them, if he had been awake, or at least peek out of his room upon hearing the front door which spoke of their arrival, whether from nerves or because of worry, but he hadn’t. 

They assumed Dipper must have been exhausted, physically and mentally, and hence likely sleeping. There was no need to bother him then, none of them had the energy for a discussion and there’d be nothing productive in waking the boy up now when it was getting late. They all knew how hard sleep seemed to come to Dipper so waking him up would have been counterproductive. It was better to let him get his rest and talk to him the next day. Out of all of them, he was probably the most tired. Yawning all the way to her room, Mabel finally made it inside and got herself out of her dress, just barely avoiding getting the frills caught in anything around her. Once she had dressed up for the night she made herself comfortable under the covers of her bed and sighed contently at the nice temperature of the room. She mentally wished Dipper a ‘good night’ before letting herself slip into the land of dreams now that she was finally warm, snuggled up in her bed and surrounded by the happy colours of her room and the paintings there.

The house was so warm…

***** 

Lazy rays of sunshine sneaked in through thin flowery curtains, slowly lighting up the room and laying the contours of objects scattered around, of knick-knacks, wind chimes and the clutter of artistic objects found wherever the girl sleeping soundly in the soft bed went. It must have been early morning by the way the room had yet to come completely into focus in the dim light even with the big double windows near the bed, but Mabel slowly found herself waking up despite the early hour. The girl had always been an early riser ever since she could remember, early to go to school, early to prepare breakfast, early to wake up her brother with chatting about the day’s events and excited squealing. It was just a thing! Not to say there wasn’t the rare occasion when she slept in late after a party or late social event, but her internal clock tended to ignore even that at times and she found herself tired, but awake. It was pretty hard to fall asleep after that, so it wasn’t too surprising that however bad yesterday had gone she would still wake up early and ready to face the day…but perhaps this time she could sneak in five more minutes of sleep. 

A long yawn broke through the silence of the room and Mabel rolled onto her side, sighing blissfully as she snuggled into the warmth of her blankets, soft light pouring in with the intent to get her out of her safe cocoon. A few minutes of lazing about later she finally reached for her alarm clock, bringing it in bed with her to check the hour. It was definitely early in the morning but she was sure she couldn’t sleep anymore. Rubbing her eyes, she got into a sitting position and let out another yawn, clock in hand. It was too early to do much but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find something to do. After all, it was best to start the day off energetic and happy so it’d go well! If she got up then she should have just enough time to get ready for the day and make breakfast! The memories of yesterday had yet to disappear and still swirled in her mind like uncomfortable whispers but after a good night’s sleep she was at least able to think about everything with a clear head and figure out the best course of action, which seemed quite clear right then: pancakes! 

Today would be a good day.

And she’d make sure of it by having everyone start off with a batch of her special Mabel pancakes!

With that thought in mind and a smile on her lips, she threw the covers off of herself and jumped out of the bed. The drapes were pulled aside to let the whole of the morning light inside and the windows were opened to let fresh air replace the stagnant one that had gathered in the room. The weather was still dreary from the passing storm even with the sun peeking out and a shiver went through her when the cold air hit her full force – perhaps she should have worn something warmer while opening the window but at least the cold air served to wake her up. The light wasn’t too kind even if it was welcome and Mabel noticed stray clouds still blocked the sun every so often. Despite that, she was sure it’d get warmer as the day progressed; she just had to give it some time. Bad weather always went away and bad events couldn’t last forever either. Everything would pass and she’d make sure everyone would be happy again. 

There was something very wrong when the doctor was sick and there was something equally wrong if Mabel didn’t wear her usual smile. She couldn’t have that, could she? She was supposed to make sure everyone was happy, it was the little job she had taken on ever since she was a child and she refused to falter in it. She headed for the bathroom with as little noise as possible as to not wake anyone up and went through her morning routine without much hurry. Once she was fully awake and pleased with herself she returned to her room to brush her hair and neatly tie it up. Usually she would have left it to fall down her back in long curls and beautiful waves, but getting pancake batter into your hair wasn’t a nice experience – she had learnt that the hard way, several times for that matter, with complimentary scoldings from grunkle Stanford and groaning from grunkle Stanley.

The dress from yesterday had been left scattered in a corner of the room so she quickly put it back in its place – albeit still ruffled up, though you could barely tell since it already had so many frills to it – then proceeded to make her way downstairs. She would change after breakfast. After all, if she was the one making it then it wouldn’t do to get one of her good dresses accidentally stained, would it? As expected, there was no one in the kitchen when she got to it and the light was still poor but better than before, so she settled herself to work by first getting all of the ingredients out. It wasn’t long into cooking that she started humming and then singing happily, not caring anymore if she woke up the rest of the household, it was about time they woke up anyhow! Her special pancakes would be ready soon and they could definitely not miss out on them. The first to have heard her seemed to be grunkle Stan who dragged his feet towards the kitchen to see his grandniece happily cooking and singing a cheery tune scattered with random words and made up lyrics while still in her nightgown. He’d never know where she got her energy from, or the ability to be up so early for that matter. He yawned, not seeming quite awake as he rubbed his eyes and tried to blink away sleep.

“Good morning, sweetie.” He said though it came out more like a deep grumble with the sleep in his voice. “What are you making?” The man made a vague gesture towards the ingredients she had scattered on the counter and with how he looked it wasn’t hard to believe he had no idea what she was making if only because he wasn’t fully awake yet. Or simply because he couldn’t bother to try and guess.

Mabel grinned, stopping her singing so she could answer her grunkle. “I’m making pancakes! And they’ll be ready pretty soon so you better take a seat before I decide I should eat them all myself.” She quipped playfully with a smile brighter than the sun, though anyone who knew her well enough could tell she wouldn’t do that. She had made those pancakes to enjoy them with her family after all…not to say she couldn’t eat the whole batch though. She definitely could. In fact she had done exactly had once when she was younger. It was exactly why her grunkles had interdicted her to do so after it had happened the first time at a joking dare from Dipper – Mabel couldn’t remember ever having a worse stomach ache in her whole lifetime and that was saying something. The girl could drink a whole batch of Mabel-juice but a big batch of pancakes somehow proved to be worse than that with the right circumstances. It didn’t stop her love for pancakes, though she hadn’t been able to even look at one for a few weeks after the incident without feeling her stomach cramping up in protest. 

Grumbling something about being just a moment, her grunkle headed out of the kitchen. Mabel assumed he was going to wash his face to get rid of some of the sleep in his eyes before returning so she went back to making pancakes. By the time grunkle Ford made his way into the kitchen, already dressed up, ready for the day and looking more awake than his twin if not a bit tired, the smell of pancakes was already spreading itself through the house. “Good morning, Mabel.” He greeted amiably, taking a seat at the table. If he had been allowed, he would have probably been reading the newspaper or some book or another, but as it was the Pines family had had to install a strict no reading at the table policy on the basis that Stanley didn’t pay attention to anything while reading the paper and both Ford and Dipper seemed out of touch with reality when reading, however well they faked their reactions to things around them. Sometimes it was almost funny to watch the two bookworms of the family read while speed-eating, eyes never really leaving the pages, but it quickly got tiring and even a tad irritating, plus it couldn’t have possibly been healthy!

In the end they had decided that there would be no reading allowed at the table once the meal commenced unless it was an emergency (e.g. a deadline for one of Ford’s manuscripts, some supernatural creature or another needing immediate help to which the answer could only be found in some old book or another or the review of one of Ford’s publications – yes, the last one counted as a special sort of ‘emergency’). If anyone happened to have any reading material at the table when they shouldn’t have, Mabel was in her right to confiscate it till they were done with their meal…which was all well and good for the most part though both Stanley and her found themselves having to remind their twins that eating as if you were starved just to get to reading a book wasn’t worth it – sometimes it worked, sometimes it failed, occasionally someone choked. As a rule of the thumb, water needed to always be present at the table before anything else as a precaution. 

“Are we having pancakes today?” Ford asked, though he already knew the answer to the question by the smell in the room and by Mabel obviously flipping them in the air. It wasn’t as if the question was meant to get an answer as much as it was to get the girl to converse though, Mabel always enjoyed some morning chatter and Ford got fidgety and restless if he had nothing to do.

“Yep!” the girl answered cheerily, flipping a pancake in the pan with expert movements – no one was better than her at making pancakes! “I’m making my special pancakes today to lift our spirits, so I hope you’re hungry grunkle Ford!” Her voice was still just as cheery as she talked and stacked another pancake on a plate but the man’s complexity seemed to darken at her words like a cloud over the sun. Perhaps reminding him of what had happened yesterday wasn’t the best thing to do but they would have to face that sooner or later. Grunkle Stan made his way back into the room, letting out a yawn as he sat down next to his brother. Compared to Stanford, Stanley hadn’t bothered to change out of his sleepwear and didn’t seem to have any intention to do so until after breakfast. It was surprising – and a bit amusing – how different the two could be when you looked at them but, then again, Mabel and Dipper were also very different but they still loved each other and always had each other’s back in any situation. Dipper always protected her, but Mabel couldn’t always do the same when it came to the supernatural so she made up for it in situations where she had more power in coercing people to do what she wanted along with the occasional last minute save with her grappling hook and a well-placed left hook.

“Speaking of yesterday,” Stanford started, looking around the room and settling his eyes onto the door. “Dipper has yet to wake up…I would have thought he’d be here by now.” The man glanced at his watch as if that could tell him when the boy would appear and why he was late. Usually, it might as well had because Dipper was always on time despite his bad sleeping habits, at least if it was a week day, if it was a weekend then his sleeping program might as well be inexistent with how screwed up it got. It was pretty clear the man wanted to have a discussion with the boy – a pretty unpleasant one by his tone and expression – and Mabel fully expected things to get extremely awkward as soon as her twin made his way downstairs. However, Dipper seemed to be quite late this morning…”Perhaps I should go check on him.” Stanford was just about to get up from his seat when Mabel laid a plate full of delicious pancakes drenched in syrup in front of him, instantly stopping his movements with the small clunk sound the plate made against the table, Ford’s eyes settling on the dish.

“You worry too much, grunkle Ford!” she said dismissively, cheery tone never faltering while she placed the second plate of pancakes in front of Stanley who proceeded to dig into them without a second thought. It wasn’t a big gesture in the least, it wasn’t even a strange one but putting down the plates with pancakes signalled that the meal had already begun, that everything was already in order, and Mabel had always known how to play her cards right to get what she wanted. She was cheery and always on top of her game with socials, her family was closest to her but it was because of that that she knew how to get exactly what she wanted while seeming completely normal. She had known that since she was a child. “You know how Dipper gets! He probably stood up all night rehearsing his vows and forgot to set his alarm clock.” The last plate made its own sound as it was placed on the table on the other side of Ford and the man seemed to settle down again, no intention of getting up. 

Stanley tried to say something, mouth full of pancakes and Stanford proceeded to make a face. “Please swallow before you speak, Stanley.” The twin chastised, sighing in slight exasperation and shaking his head. Mabel took her seat opposite to Ford and pulled herself closer to the table before she started eating her own pancakes, watching the exchange with knowing eyes. 

“I said,” Stanley continued once he had swallowed the bite of pancakes in his mouth. “Mabel’s probably right.” He took more pancakes onto his fork but delayed in eating them so he could continue speaking unhindered by the delicious meal. “Plus, if you wake him up now he’ll forget everything all over again, just let the kid get some sleep. He looked like a zombie yesterday! Maybe this way he’ll actually get something done.” 

The girl couldn’t help the grin that spread on her face, knowing that with that Dipper was out of the red zone, at least till he woke up. 

Her bro-bro could use some sleep.

“I suppose…” Stanford gave in with a sigh. Dipper did need his sleep and while Stanford didn’t believe Dipper would forget anything even if they woke him up, he would have to agree with Stanley this time. Dipper had seemed very tired the other day. Perhaps all he really needed was some rest. Stanford could at least hope that was it because he didn’t like the thought that the boy had messed everything up on purpose even if it seemed so. Dipper wasn’t off of the hook but Stanford could let him get in some proper sleep before they had to face reality and all the problems that came with it. 

Life wasn’t a dream.

An accomplished plan and two plates of pancakes later, Mabel was happily making her way upstairs to get dressed for the day, leaving the dishes to grunkle Stan. Her room was cold from having left the window open. Deciding that was enough fresh air she closed it, wind chimes clinking softly when she brushed against them. She pulled over the drapes once again and went to her wardrobe to decide upon the day’s dress. The day’s colour was decided to be violet! Mabel carefully pulled out her chosen dress and admired it with a critical eye before deciding it was definitely the right choice. Grinning brightly, she donned it and went in front of her mirror to have a second look. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the prettiest of them all?” she said playfully, swirling about in her skirts. 

The top of the dress along with most of the bottom was white adorned with flowery violet decorations, while the front of it was fully violet with a bow on the side of her waist. Two smaller bows fell cutely near her elbows, just a bit before the sleeves stopped, and the edges of her dress had a trim of violet to accentuate the white. It was a very pretty dress which left her neck and some of her cleavage bear, allowing her more breathing space. The sleeves didn’t reach her wrists either which was perfect because she felt creative that day and wouldn’t have wanted to accidentally get paint on it – as opposed to the one from yesterday, which had definitely been intentional. She made her voice higher as she looked into the mirror. “Why, I have never seen a prettier maiden! Now please go before I fog up from your beauty.” The girl kept from giggling as she tried to appear bashful. “Aww, you’re too sweet, mirror.” She gushed happily, grinning before breaking into giggles. It was always fun to mess around in front of the mirror! Nothing better to pick up your mood than fooling around in front of a mirror all dressed up. 

“Alright, time to do some painting!” 

Willing any bad thoughts from yesterday away, Mabel exited her room and headed for her little art room instead. Well, technically it wasn’t that little but that certainly did make it sound cuter! It was a fairly sized room cluttered with beautiful paintings and all sorts of oil colours about, a rag filled with colour thrown here and there, though there was a side of the room which was completely clear, the wall being covered up in a white drape instead, a chair in front of it. That was where Mabel would sometimes have people pose for portraits or settle some object of inspiration for a quick sketch or another. It was truly helpful and she was glad grunkle Stan had helped her set that up along with moving her things to her art room after it was ready – goodness knew they had been spread all around the house before which wasn’t too helpful as she’d occasionally hear one member of the family or another let out a scream because they stepped into one of her oil colours or supplies – the phrase ‘hot Belgian waffles’ was also frequently used. She still remembered the tragedy of when grunkle Ford had tripped and ripped right through one of her portraits. Now, the information that her grunkle Ford would have looked lovely in a light pink dress was priceless but that didn’t change the fact that she had had to redo that portrait from scratch. Thankfully, Candy had been understanding, if not somewhat amused by the turn of events. 

Moving her last painting of a butterfly away from the easel and hanging it in its designated place, Mabel replaced it with a fresh canvas and got to work. Or, better said, she would have if she knew what she wanted to paint. She had been so excited about painting once the day started out well but now that she was in front of a blank canvas her ideas seemed to be flying all around without settling on anything. She wasn’t ever one to run out of ideas but none of them really seemed to fit what she felt like doing, none of them gave her that spark that said it’d be the perfect centrepiece for her next masterpiece. She furrowed her brows and squinted almost accusingly at the canvas as if that would convince it to tell her its secrets. This continued for a few moments but nothing really caught her interest. Perhaps if she started painting things would be different? Selecting a thin brush from nearby, Mabel scanned her colours for the ones she needed. She mixed up sienna and yellow with a bigger brush till she got a light shade of ochre perfect for sketching and easy to cover up, then started dragging her thin paintbrush over the white canvas, leaving pale lines behind. 

She was at this for a while but nothing seemed to stand out…

A few raps at the door downstairs brought her out of whatever flimsy idea she had grasped onto last and she blinked herself back into her art room. Her canvas was covered in shapes thinly made out with ochre but she knew none of them had a specific purpose. Ah, what a mess! The knocking came again and she turned her head towards the clock in the room, wondering who it could have been. It was still morning, about an hour and a half after breakfast. Dipper should have probably been awake by then but since he wasn’t answering the door she supposed he wasn’t. He really must have been more tired than she had originally thought if this was the case. Who would come at this hour though? She wasn’t having anyone come over and she could only hope it wasn’t some supernatural problem again. 

The knocking came again. 

“Coming!” The girl yelled, putting her paintbrush aside and carefully making her way away from the canvas and paints, out of her art room and then quickly downstairs. Stanley must have been leading tours in the Mystery Shack by then and she could only assume the only reason why Stanford wasn’t answering was because he was once again engrossed in his work, if he hadn’t already left on his expedition for the day. Mabel had no idea what it was about but Stanford had told them he’d be leaving somewhere in the afternoon to check on things in the forest. He refused to tell them what but Mabel was sure even if he did explain it’d be in that way in which only Dipper understood what he was even trying to say. The fact that the man gave instructions in a backwards manner didn’t help either. Must have been a family trait since Stanley did it too. 

She opened the door. 

Suddenly the harsh light from earlier seemed much gentler as it filtered itself through straight golden hair and lit up crystal blue eyes. The girl before her seemed to have been ready to knock on the door for the fourth time when Mabel opened as she was pulling her hand back to herself but the brunette barely noticed that little detail as she took in the image of the girl, processing exactly who was on her doorstep. Pacifica. Her skin looked much healthier in the light of day and she seemed far less tired than yesterday. The sun had come up to grace them with warmth while Mabel was busy inside and Pacifica seemed to have accustomed herself to it by wearing a violet dress with short sleeves. The dress was almost completely violet except for where it split up in the front to leave space for black, but it didn’t even come near to the space the non-colour had occupied on her figure the other day. As a final touch, a light violet pendant hung from her pale neck and stopped to rest on her bear cleavage. For a moment Mabel forgot how exactly one was supposed to form words and Pacifica seemed to have followed suit as she stared at the girl in front of her. 

Mabel was quite beautiful even if not in the conventional aristocratic way. She was plumper and sweeter and radiated warmth that seemed to have come off in a wave the moment she had opened the door. Pacifica wasn’t sure if this was because of the girl herself or if the house really was warmed up, perhaps it was a combination of the two since she could feel butterflies in her stomach. The girl’s brown hair was caught up in a ponytail that day but Pacifica noticed a few strands had escaped from it and now hung near her ears in curls, a longer one going as far as to trail from behind her ear to her shoulder where it laid innocently. They stood there in silence for a few moments, words having disappeared from their world before it registered in Pacifica’s mind that she was staring…more so, Mabel was staring at her in return. She wasn’t sure if this was because she had started staring in the first place and Mabel meant hers as sarcastic or chastising or if the girl actually was staring back at her in the same way she was. She decided this wasn’t the time to think that through if only because of her fear it might be the first one. 

Plus, staring was rude of her. 

She could only hope the girl hadn’t said anything beforehand because she had probably let those words pass right through her without hearing anything. “Uhm, I’m here to see Dipper?” she said, unsure, her words coming out as more of a question than a request. At the very least now that Mabel had answered the door she knew she had come to the right address. Since no one had answered in the beginning she had wondered if she had been mistaken and might need to go ask someone for directions or even enter through the Mystery Shack. It wouldn’t have been a big deal but it involved speaking to people and after yesterday’s disaster she didn’t really want to speak to anyone. They would definitely ask her about the rehearsal and why the wedding had been postponed if she did speak to them…

Not to mention that the Mystery Shack definitely wasn’t a place for a lady of her status and taste! 

For a few moments Pacifica’s words didn’t seem to make it to Mabel and she had to blink several times as the sounds translated into words with meaning for her. “Oh!” she exclaimed, realization finally washing over her. Pacifica was there to see Dipper. “Yes, yes, of course.” And, of course, Dipper wasn’t available to talk right then…”Uhm, well actually, you see, this isn’t really a good moment.” Mabel tried to explain, gesturing vaguely with her hands. Pacifica furrowed her brows in inquiry as Mabel found her words. “He stayed up late last night so he hasn’t woken up yet.” Mabel explained with a sheepish expression. She didn’t want to deny Pacifica the right to talk to her future husband but she didn’t want to have to wake up her brother either. She had just barely avoided grunkle Ford waking Dipper up so having to wake him up now because of Pacifica wasn’t really that much better. Dipper needed his rest. With how his sleeping program was he’d wake up sooner or later anyway – he couldn’t seem to sleep for more than a few hours at a time without waking up between them – so Mabel wanted to let him have his peace for now. 

“Oh.” Pacifica said in realization. It was early, perhaps not extremely but it was still early and some people did like sleeping in late. She just hadn’t thought Dipper was one of those people but perhaps she had been wrong. Then again it wasn’t as if she had wanted to get out of bed in the morning either when thinking about everything that had happened. Her coming over so early was even a bit impolite if she thought about it… “I’m sorry for intruding, perhaps I can come by later?” she suggested and Mabel jumped in to stop her even before she had finished speaking, which made blue eyes widen slightly in surprise as she watched the girl.

“No, no, you can stay!” Mabel assured quickly and the blonde gave her a curious look, seeming a bit confused if anything. She could have but since Dipper was asleep, wouldn’t she just be imposing? “I mean,” Well, this was kind of awkward, but that hadn’t ever stopped Mabel before. “I’m sure Dipper will wake up not too long from now! You could stay and maybe we could have tea or something in the meantime?” Yes, tea. Tea worked. Mabel wasn’t a big fan of tea but it’d do just fine for someone of Pacifica’s status. Sincerely, Mabel preferred juice but sweetened tea was good too! Plus, making Pacifica go back after she had come all the way there wouldn’t be nice of her. “Please come in.” she invited, realizing she had kept her waiting at the door for far longer than was respectful. She moved out of the way to allow Pacifica to step inside.

“Thank you. That would be nice.” The lady answered with a sweet bemused smile as she made her way inside. Tea with Mabel actually sounded nice even if it hadn’t been in any of her plans. The girl was a literal ray of sunshine and the heiress was admittedly interested in finding out more about the girl. She knew very little about Mabel when she thought about it. She knew the girl was beautiful, bubbly, definitely a fighter, involved with a bunch of weird things – it was the only way to explain the gnome incident – and a very talented artist, but except for that? She didn’t really know that much but Mabel seemed to be a kind person if not a bit awkward when taken by surprise. She seemed sweet and spending time with someone like that instead of one of her usual high classed acquaintances had a great appeal to Pacifica right about then. She was also happy to see the girl didn’t seem to be upset over what had happened the day before or hold it against her. If anything she seemed to be slightly empathetic to it if the way she didn’t want to disturb her brother from his sleep said anything. “I was actually hoping we could practice our vows together. I didn’t realize that perhaps it was a bit too early to pay him a visit.” She admitted, moving a strand of blond hair away from her face as Mabel closed the door behind her with a soft click. The house was warm. Pacifica wasn’t sure what it was exactly about it but it had a certain feeling of homeliness to it that the mansion never had. Perhaps the colours? The actual warmth? The wooden surroundings?

Whatever it was, it felt nice…

“Nah, it’s a perfectly normal hour! You just happened to drop in at the wrong moment is all!” Mabel assured with a cheery grin, eyes alight with warmth as she looked at the girl before her. “Come, we can sit down in the living room and I’ll have our tea ready in no time!” She clapped her hands together as she said this then started leading her guest through the house. Pacifica took the chance to look around the house as they walked. It was decorated with various paintings and knick-knacks and she also noted the many bookshelves all around. Her family also had a lot of books, books and bookshelves were a symbol of status for some families to show how smart they were, how rich they were or how high in class. Having books didn’t mean the person actually read them but from the way these books were scattered about and how most looked worn and bearing many bookmarks or accompanying notes – from what she had seen from a few opened ones they had passed by – she could tell that these were definitely read. Wasn’t someone from Mabel’s family a writer? Even so, while the books were definitely something that caught your attention, Pacifica found herself more enraptured by the paintings they passed by, each a bright splatter of colour in the room. It didn’t matter how colourful or nice the room was, the paintings would still be the thing to draw your eyes the moment you walked through the door.

Once in the living room Pacifica took a seat on one of the chairs and watched as Mabel briefly disappeared to heat up some water. It wasn’t a big living room and she noted Mabel went through another room to reach the kitchen. The one she was sitting in had a few chairs and a couch she was sitting on. There was a bookshelf in a corner, a coffee table in the middle and several paintings hung about. “It’ll just be a few moments now.” Mabel said upon her return once the water was heating up, walking in with a swirl of her skirts. It was interesting to note that both of them had chosen to dress in violet for the day, a bit amusing really even if their dresses were quite different. The blue eyed girl brought her eyes away from a painting in the room to look towards its artist when she spoke. 

She nodded politely. “That’s fine, thank you.” 

Mabel smiled and made her way towards a chair. “You’re welcome!” The brunette took a seat opposite of Pacifica, straightening her dress around her. She didn’t fail to notice how her guest’s eyes flickered towards the painting on the wall. She felt a happy grin tug at her lips the moment she noticed. “Do you like it?” she asked her, trying not to seem too giddy as she leaned in just a bit to hear the answer even if she was already quite close. A flush of colour came to Pacifica’s pale cheeks as her eyes met Mabel’s and she cleared her voice. Mabel assumed she was trying to keep up her appearance of a high aristocratic lady with no weakness but she didn’t really care. Mabel knew it was a façade anyway and the Pacifica she had met yesterday had been nice and sweet, a fighter and a quick-thinker with nice manners who was perhaps a bit awkward when put on the spot but knew how to always keep her head up and go on in any situation. She was definitely someone to be admired but she was also very cute in her gestures if you took the time to look.

“It is a nice painting.” Pacifica noted, her tone controlled with an almost fancy note to it. She didn’t really want to say how much she liked the painting or the other paintings around, nor was she sure she would have been able to describe how much she liked them in words that would have really conveyed her feelings towards them without making her seem foolish. She liked art a lot but her mother had never approved of it. Too passionate for a young lady, she’d say. But Pacifica had found a way to get paintings in her room as well, it just didn’t help that said paintings were made by Mabel. The girl had seen the painting she had of the shooting star and Pacifica couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward about admitting to liking her paintings now. It wasn’t a big deal to be an admirer of someone’s work but Pacifica had never found herself in that role before and now she was having a hard time fitting into it without being awkward.

“Thank you!” The answer was much happier than Pacifica would have expected, as if the words Mabel had received had been very kind and sweet, not as if they were an almost dismissive comment. Pacifica wondered if Mabel had even heard her right but found her cheeks just flushing more at the girl’s enthusiasm for such a simple remark. Perhaps it wasn’t enthusiasm for the remark though because the girl seemed able to see right through her…perhaps she just knew Pacifica meant to say much more than she actually did without her actually speaking the words outright. It was almost a comforting thought if not a bit unnerving.

There was a small moment of silence as neither girl knew how to continue the conversation.

“Did you, uhm…” Pacifica made a vague hand gesture towards the paintings before realizing Mabel was looking at her now and that she had not really thought the question through. She cleared her voice to hide how she stumbled over her words before trying again, hands folded in her lap. Mabel waited patiently, a curious look in her brown eyes, almost expectant. “Are you the one who made all of these paintings?” Pacifica asked, trying to seem casual about it but as good as it seemed to have come out, Mabel made her feel as if she had failed at making it sound indifferent. With the energy Mabel had everything Pacifica did seemed to come off as monotone but Mabel still took everything with a happy smile and a light in her deep brown eyes. Pacifica wondered if she had this effect on everyone. Surely no one else could possibly keep up with the amount of energy this girl exuded even by just being present.

“Yep!” Mabel answered, making sure to pop the ‘p’ and seeming proud as she moved her legs back and forward excitedly underneath her dress. “Every single one of them!” she guaranteed. “Grunkle Stan loves hanging them all over the place so they’re all over the house and even in the Shack!” Pacifica noted a loving spark in Mabel’s eyes as she talked about her family with warmth, she always seemed to get that when speaking about someone from her family from what little Pacifica had noticed about her. She always seemed to light up when talking about them. Pacifica also cared for hers and loved them dearly but she got the feeling that Mabel’s family was more tightknit than hers…and perhaps a lot warmer. Not that Pacifica’s family didn’t try to be good to her and get her everything she wanted, but sometimes she felt as if they didn’t really listen to her and what she truly wanted. They had expectations that she could live up to but they weren’t expectations she wanted to live up to… With these thoughts, Pacifica didn’t even notice the almost sudden stop to Mabel’s words. “I completely forgot!” So it was no wonder Pacifica was caught by surprise when Mabel jumped up from her seat out of nowhere, hands going to her face in horror. The blonde almost jumped back from the loud and sudden lamentation, having not anticipated such a quick change in the energy of the room.

Forgot? 

Forgot what? 

“I’m pretty sure the water for the tea isn’t ready yet.” She assured, brows furrowing at being startled in such a manner. That was what she had forgotten right? Pacifica was not able to think of anything else that required Mabel’s attention or that would have caused her to react so suddenly and almost in a panicked fashion.

“Not the tea, silly!” Pacifica raised an elegant eyebrow at that. She couldn’t remember anyone having ever called her ‘silly’ but Mabel didn’t seem to take it into consideration as she continued. “Your painting!” 

Now, that was even more confusing. 

“What painting?” The girl couldn’t recall having ordered a painting from Mabel or anything of the sort. All of the paintings she had from the girl were in her room, safely wrapped up and tucked underneath her bed where no one else would find them. None of them were there and she hadn’t really talked to Mabel too much about paintings except for a few words. She should probably have a small talk with Mabel about her not mentioning her own paintings to her parents but now did not seem to be the right time. 

Mabel rolled her pretty eyes at her. 

“I told you yesterday, remember?” From the looks of it, Pacifica didn’t. “I said I’d remake the shooting star painting for you!” She cleared up and saw Pacifica’s eyes light up as she remembered Mabel’s words from the day before, right after the gnome attack had passed and her little secret had been revealed. “To think I’ve been working for an hour and a half on nothing when I could have done that!” Mabel let out an exaggerated groan and paced the room as if she had committed some sort of irredeemable crime, it was so exaggerated and over something so unimportant that it actually brought a smile to Pacifica’s lips as she watched her flutter around in her dress. She almost looked like she was dancing and Pacifica wondered how she looked when actually dancing to a waltz. While Pacifica seemed to brush the topic off, Mabel couldn’t help but think that by then she would have probably had the sketch for the shooting star done if she had started earlier but as it was, she couldn’t turn back time. 

“It’s alright, really.” Pacifica assured, a smile on her lips as she followed the girl with her eyes. Mabel seemed to finally stop her pacing, almost pouting at the kind words. Pacifica wasn’t mad at her, but Mabel was frustrated with herself for having forgotten such a promise. The wedding might have been postponed but she still should have started on it as soon as possible! “Actually, that might not be the best idea.” That was more than enough to make the brunette tilt her head in curiosity and confusion. Not a good idea? How could a painting not be a good idea? They were beautiful, Mabel made sure they were. 

“Why not? It would be the perfect wedding gift!” She pointed out, letting herself sit down across from Pacifica once again. “The one you have is a bit worn out anyway and I could make a much better one now!” Not that she wanted Pacifica to get rid of the old one or anything but since the girl had one of her paintings she wanted to make her a gift she would love just as much, if not more. She had even planned out all of the colours in her head and how she’d do it! She’d have details and beautiful colours, she’d make them fade into each other and make it seem like the star was there and ready to shoot across the room and out of its frame…For her to be told she couldn’t do it anymore seemed like a punishment, however calm and sweet Pacifica looked while telling her. She almost looked sad about having to tell her this though so Mabel couldn’t quite understand why she thought the painting a bad idea. 

Pacifica looked much better with a smile on her lips.

“Perhaps but, you see, my parents aren’t really fond of” The girl glanced at the paintings hanging in the room for a brief moment, trying to find her words. “these type of colourful paintings.” She finished, knowing it was probably not the best way to put it but it was the least insulting way. Pacifica could have loved those paintings to the ends of the earth and she could have stared at them for hours at a time but her parents definitely wouldn’t approve of such lively things in their perfectly grey and dim coloured home, it would take away from the ambience or some other such excuse. This time it was Mabel’s turn to crunch up her face in confusion – it would have been cute if not for the look in her eyes – and she didn’t even have to voice it for Pacifica to catch on. The heiress sighed, not really managing to hide her own disappointment at what she was about to say. “My parents find these kinds of paintings too…lively. Gaudy, if you will.” She tried to explain as if that would make things better and have Mabel see what the problem was. “They say such art is too passionate. Not to say they wouldn’t accept it but they wouldn’t keep it. It’d just be a waste of your time and talent.”

Mabel seemed to be thinking hard upon what Pacifica had just told her, face scrunched up just a bit. She had never in her life heard someone say that art was too passionate because art was made to be passionate and lively! If anything, that was a good thing! People should be passionate, they should love living, paintings should go over all kinds of emotions and be able to convey them to the viewer. There were many different kinds of art and all were different, Mabel’s style just happened to be bright and look as if they came out of a storybook with minor exceptions. She could see how the Northwests might lean towards a different kind of art style for their home but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t at least admit hers was good and appreciate it. And then there was that word: ‘gaudy’. What a fancy word for an insult! That mansion could definitely use some spots of colour and some of the joy her paintings brought! And they weren’t ‘gaudy’! What was worse was the implication that the Northwests would just throw it away. What reason was there to gift them a painting if they would just throw it away? Not to mention it would be a terrible insult to her as the artist! 

Still, she really had wanted to make a painting for the young bride…

An idea suddenly popped into her head and she lit up like a match in the dark, once again standing up. “I know!” This time the exclamation was accompanied by the shrill shriek of the teapot and Pacifica flinched at the sudden disturbance and loud voice. She may have liked tea but the teapot’s sound wasn’t really a pleasant one. “Oh, the tea is almost ready, just a moment!” The girl said as if she hadn’t just almost given Pacifica a heart attack by sitting up so suddenly. That girl…definitely had a lot of energy in her. Once again, Pacifica was left with more questions as Mabel headed to get them their tea, humming all the while from the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a tray bearing the teapot and cups, pouring them both tea. Pacifica thanked her and reached for her own cup, pinky out as she lifted it. “So, I was thinking,” The grin on the girl’s lips widened as she spoke while watching the girl across from her take a sip of her tea. Pacifica had the sensation that it wasn’t the tea she was excited about. “What if instead of painting a shooting star, I paint you?” 

The girl clad in violet and black blinked, blue eyes settling on brown. She slowly lowered her tea with a cautious gaze, as if debating if the girl before her was playing some sort of trick. “Like a portrait?” she inquired carefully and Mabel nodded excitedly. 

“Exactly!” The answer came the moment Pacifica finished speaking, with a surprising amount of confidence, Pacifica was surprised such energy could even fit in the girl’s body. “They can refuse one of my paintings and throw it away but they couldn’t throw away a painting of you!” It’d be impolite and an insult to their daughter if they did. If Mabel made a normal painting they could have thrown it away on whatever random excuse they could conjure up but if it was a painting of Pacifica, of their daughter and bride to be, then they couldn’t have thrown it away without bringing some offense to Pacifica or causing rumours to spread. It wasn’t as if it was easy to get rid of a painting anyhow and if Mabel gifted it to them when others were around and showed it off a bit it’d be even harder to excuse losing it. Even Dipper couldn’t have thought this through better.

It was the perfect plan!

Pacifica also seemed to see the logic in her plan and her lips curled up just the tiniest bit. “That’s true.” She agreed and Mabel actually thought she would offer her a smile but instead she frowned softly and sighed. “But when would we even have time to do that? The wedding has been postponed but there are preparations to be made, things to be changed and me and Dipper will have to meet up for another rehearsal as well. Not that I’d mind you gifting it at a later date or anything.” Just that then they wouldn’t see her parent’s expressions. However Pacifica turned her program around she couldn’t see any moment where she would actually have time to sit for a portrait. Admittedly, the artist had the hard work of making the portrait but being a model was actually much harder than it looked. It wasn’t a piece of cake to not move for hours while the painting was being done and it always took a while to get everything right, even the initial position and details took a while to settle upon…

Mabel worried her bottom lip, a habit she had picked up somewhere along the way from her twin. 

“How about now?” 

“Now?” Pacifica repeated in astonishment, her blue eyes widening as they settled on Mabel, wondering if she was serious. Yes, she was there now and Mabel was too. Pacifica didn’t doubt the girl had some paints lying about and a canvas or two as well if the many paintings hung around the house were of any indication but there were many other things to consider when making a portrait as well. Could they really just jump into making one? The brown haired girl didn’t seem derailed from her idea despite Pacifica’s reaction.

“Yes, now!” She repeated, pressing the matter. “How long are you staying?” Depending on her answer Mabel was sure she could at least get some kind of sketch done which would be a start and then she could just have Pacifica come by another day to pose and work on the rest. It would be a bit difficult working like that but Mabel was sure she could pull this off if she had been able to pull off a statue of her grunkle Stan when she was just twelve years old. The difference was that she knew Grunkle Stan very well even then, but she had only met Pacifica the day before. She was beautiful and Mabel might have done her best to commit her every feature to memory but she wasn’t sure she could get her right down to the last detail unless she was there, from the way her eyes dropped to the folds of her clothes and the curve of her lips. 

Pacifica couldn’t help but flush at the inquiry despite herself, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the jar of cookies. She tried not to meet Mabel’s eyes as she spoke, a hand played with a stray strand of blonde hair, moving it behind her ear. “Actually, I told my parents I’d be going to a friend’s house for the day, and possibly the night, since I assumed they wouldn’t like me coming here on my own and it wouldn’t have gone well with them coming along.” As she was avoiding Mabel’s gaze, Pacifica missed the grin spreading on the girl’s face. “I mean I will go there after I leave this place but there isn’t exactly a schedule or time when I need to arrive there…” And her friend would be fine with a surprise visit whenever she made it there, so it wasn’t a truly big deal. Even so, she felt like she was admitting a crime by telling Mabel about this little detour she had taken. 

“So you have the whole day free?” The brunette exclaimed, seeming to completely overlook the fact that Pacifica had lied to come over to their house. After all, it was just a little lie and Pacifica was right! If she had told her parents they would have either sent a chaperone along with her or come along themselves which would have been bad for both her and Dipper, not to mention for their guardians with the tension that had taken over yesterday. Mabel was actually kind of proud of Pacifica for having lied her way through this and sneaked out. It wasn’t a skill everyone had and since she seemed so very perfect it was intriguing and comforting to know she had this kind of side to her as well. Mabel wondered just how good at lying she was, which was probably a strange thought, but after living with grunkle Stan one couldn’t help but wonder. Mabel was a good liar as well and a good actor, she learnt fast and with a teacher like Stan around both her and Dipper had picked up a few skills which most model citizens would frown upon.

Pacifica’s blush didn’t disappear but she kept her head high as she answered with a nod. 

“Yes.” 

Mabel couldn’t have been happier. “That’s perfect!” She exclaimed, almost bouncing in her seat. Inspiration was sometimes very pretentious in coming around, sometimes it didn’t come for days and other times it just struck. Mabel hadn’t expected anything much that day with how her morning had begun but she now found herself more than just a bit excited and inspired by her new project! Pacifica was beautiful, she was the perfect model! Perfectly straight blonde hair, aristocratic features, blue eyes, a lovely nose and lips in an elegant cupid’s arch…and Mabel got her all to herself for a whole day! She couldn’t have asked for a better stroke of luck even if she wished upon ten falling stars! Ideas were already swirling all over her mind on how she could paint the girl. She could paint her in so many different ways and there were so many things she could do from changing the light to having her pose with something but she had to keep in mind that they wanted to at least start that day and there wasn’t much time to prepare or get things ready…

“I mean we probably won’t be able to finish today and you’ll have to come to do a few more sittings but the main idea is to start.” Because once they started Mabel could definitely use that as an excuse to get Pacifica’s parents to let her finish it as a home-warming gift of sorts for the young couple. Sure, she might not be able to finish the portrait in time for the wedding mostly because portraits took time and the wedding was supposed to happen as soon as possible, but she’d finish it by the time the two moved into their new home and it would still be a beautiful gift. She’d just find another wedding present. The idea was perfect though and Pacifica could see the logic in the whole venture as well. Plus, there was something thrilling about going against her parents in such subtle ways. But there were still other matters they had to take into consideration before starting.

“But I’m not even dressed for a portrait.” Pacifica pointed out, breaking Mabel out of her little reverie, making the brunette bring her full attention back to the girl. Pacifica would have expected her to think of something else or perhaps suggest that she went back to the mansion and got something else to dress in for the portrait, though that might have been impossible without blowing her cover. Instead, Mabel fixed her with those brown eyes curiously, almost critically, as she looked her over. Pacifica found it hard to swallow for a moment as those brown eyes settled upon her. 

It didn’t last more than a moment before Mabel reached her conclusion though, looking positively baffled by what Pacifica had just said. “What are you talking about? You look beautiful!” She pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing on earth, blushing a moment later when she realized the compliment she had brought to the girl. It was true though, Pacifica did look lovely that day. Sure, Mabel could understand the want to perhaps dress up for a portrait but Pacifica already looked more than beautiful so she really couldn’t see a need for her to change the way she looked right then. It would do wonderfully for a portrait. The dress hugged her form sweetly before fluffing out underneath her even when sitting and it even had a bow at the back now that Mabel got a better look at it. It revealed some skin but not too much and the pendant was a very elegant touch. 

Painting her like this would do beautifully. 

Once again, Pacifica found herself flushing, though she didn’t fail to notice Mabel was having the same problem so she decided not to answer her compliment for the sake of not making the situation worse. The compliment seemed to be repeating itself in her mind as she tried to figure out what the best response would be. Bringing up her usual confidence, she finally decided on her answer though she still seemed to be avoiding Mabel’s eyes except for a few shy glances here and there. “Well, I suppose it’ll do.” It wasn’t a great dress, it was quite simple but it was elegant enough. Pacifica wouldn’t go out wearing just anything after all. “Should we just go now or how should we do this?” she decided to ask if only to keep the conversation from drying and finding herself having to deal only with those brown eyes staring at her without any other distraction as Mabel decided on how exactly she should go about portrait.

“No, we can finish our tea first! I need to think of how to paint you anyway.” Mabel declared, her blush seeming to have diminished. She picked up her teacup and took a sip as thoughts of the portrait started going through her mind. She did her best to dismiss any other thoughts for then, including her little slip-up from earlier. They didn’t have time to actually prepare anything too complicated as Mabel sometime liked to do so she’d just have to settle for something simple, which was fine. Pacifica would look great regardless but there still seemed to be something missing and Mabel wasn’t sure what, but there should have been something except just Pacifica in the portrait. Something that would perhaps accentuate her beauty or serve as a decoration. She looked at the girl as if that would help her grasp the idea that continued eluding her, but whatever she moved around in her mind didn’t quite fit. 

While Mabel thought things over, Pacifica enjoyed her tea, leaving the girl to her thoughts for now. The silence was almost comforting now instead of awkward and she was grateful for it. Having finished her tea, Pacifica leaned over to place it on the tray. It was around that moment that inspiration seemed to strike Mabel as Pacifica’s hand almost brushed against a small little flower that drooped down from the vase that served as the decoration piece of the coffee table. She placed her own cup of tea down, unfinished, and got up. “Would you mind waiting here for a little bit? I need to go pick something up!” she said quickly, bringing her hands together like in prayer for her request. “I know exactly what we need for the portrait to come out right!” She declared and before Pacifica even got to answer her, she was going out of the room in a flurry of white and violet and a click signalled that Mabel had gone out of the house.

The girl was dumbstruck for a moment, looking at where Mabel had been standing. She was so wired up for a simple portrait…Pacifica giggled. Mabel was cute. Getting up from her spot, the girl took the tray with the teacups and headed over to where she had seen Mabel come from earlier, finding she had to go through another room before entering the kitchen. She left the tray near the sink to be washed and noted that the kitchen was clean and homely, many notes being attached all around, some in simple writing, some in colour, some with drawings…She found she couldn’t read some of them, they seemed to be written in another language. Was that latin? Who wrote notes in latin? Pacifica furrowed her brows trying to decipher the scribbled and disorganized writing before giving up. She started making her way back to the living room where Mabel had left her. To get to it she had to cross the other room which she noted seemed to be an extension of the living room. It was almost as if the original living room had been cut in half, though she couldn’t tell why someone would do such a thing. It wasn’t really productive, was it? The room didn’t have anything abnormal to it: a few seats and a small couch, books sprawled on said couch, a broken pen lying on a small table near an armchair and a strange rug with triangle imprints – was that imported? Nothing weird, perhaps except the lack of Mabel’s paintings in it. 

The main door clicked open. “I’m back!” Mabel called through the house, the door slamming shut in her wake. Her steps echoed through the house, heels clicking against the floor. Pacifica made the last few steps to the living room she had been left in and smiled as the girl returned and noticed the lack of teacups on the table.

“I took the tray to the kitchen, I hope you don’t mind.” She excused herself politely and Mabel smiled at her.

“Aww, you shouldn’t have, you’re the guest!” she chastised sweetly, her cheeks red from the wind and slight chill that had settled itself outside. The sun was out but the weather still seemed to be going between chilly and warm as if it couldn’t yet decide what it wanted to do. “Anyway, I got what we needed.” Proudly, she presented what she was holding as if it wasn’t obvious: bouquets of violets. She had gone out to run over to the flower shop and get violets. Pacifica couldn’t help the way her smile widened as Mabel presented them to her so proudly. Well, it did match her dress…”We can head up to my art room now if you want!” she proposed, gesturing in the direction of the hall she had come from, bouquets held securely in one arm.

“Sure, we might as well get started.” Pacifica agreed and Mabel grinned with uncontained excitement for her new project. Painting Pacifica was definitely not something just anyone got to do and she was happy she got such an honour even if it was by sheer luck, she’d grab the chance and take it. She just hoped Dipper would not wake up anytime soon as to disturb them, because she wanted to get a good part of the sketch and painting done that day and if Dipper interrupted them she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. Pacifica’s main purpose there was to practice her vows with Dipper after all, but perhaps they could be postponed until just a little later? 

Despite their complete failure at the rehearsal Pacifica had basically learnt her vows during it and Mabel was sure Dipper had his memorized, so they could skip over practice right? The portrait took more concentration and work than learning a few little vows anyhow so Dipper would probably understand. Dipper always let her get her way! If not perhaps they could do it in one of Pacifica’s breaks? It wasn’t as if she could just keep Pacifica posing the whole time, they’d have to take breaks for the girl to stretch her legs and move around a bit. Sitting in a single position for hours without moving was terribly uncomfortable; it was the reason why Mabel didn’t like posing herself even if she loved painting. Sometimes she’d do self-portraits so that she wouldn’t have to pose for other artists, plus there were always pictures…they just lacked the colours of reality that she saw through. 

It was a bit weird that Dipper wasn’t awake yet since it was starting to approach early afternoon but perhaps he was just more tired than she had originally thought? Not that it would have been surprising since he sometimes stayed up all night and slept during the day instead. It wasn’t as if Dipper’s room was ever that lit up as to not allow him to sleep! Whenever Mabel came into the room that strange window would be the first thing she would see and it would always be this bloody red that made your skin crawl. At some point she and Dipper had shared a room when they were younger and she could have sworn that window actually let light in through it but now whenever she came to the room it felt as if the room was darkened and dyed crimson. Even when Dipper wasn’t there and it was in the middle of the day, sun shining bright, the room would be dyed red and send her skin crawling, it made her want to retreat and close the door, lock it and bar it…she wasn’t sure when she had started avoiding going to Dipper’s room. She pushed away the thoughts of Dipper. He had probably just messed up his sleeping program or was staying inside all cooped up reading a book or another as he tended to do. 

Silly bookworm! 

Perhaps she’d check on him, just in case, after working on Pacifica’s gift.

“This way!” Mabel declared, perhaps a bit loudly, grasping Pacifica’s hand in her own cold one as she started leading her out of the living room. Pacifica’s hand was warmer than her own with longer fingers that seemed to take a moment before folding around her hand and returning the hold. The sudden gesture had startled the girl but she followed Mabel despite the soft flush of her cheeks. The house was actually quite big despite not looking like much from the outside. That was pretty obvious by then but Pacifica found herself a bit surprised anyway. Mabel led her to the hall and up the stairs to the first floor. The blue eyed girl noted there was another flight of stairs leading higher up, probably to a second floor or the attic. They didn’t go up though, instead stopping on the first floor, and Mabel led her towards what Pacifica assumed was her art room. Mabel gently pulled her forward as she led the way with a smile and Pacifica found that despite the girl’s cold hand the hold was warm and friendly in its own right. She actually welcomed the cold feeling against her own warm skin as they walked. Holding hands wasn’t something she usually did but it seemed to come off as natural with Mabel to the point that she didn’t feel the need to question it or pull away with a snarky remark. 

They made it to the wooden door. It was a simple door if not a bit old with marks on it. The marks were strange as if it had been hit by something before or scratched with a knife but Pacifica wasn’t one to pry. For all she knew Mabel had probably done that with some knife while trying to ‘sculpt’ as a child. Some people did that and from what Pacifica had heard, Mabel’s grunkles weren’t really the safest of people. The door opened under Mabel’s hand and Pacifica felt just slightly overwhelmed by the amount of colours and art supplies in the room. Pacifica was sure she had never in her life seen so much colour in one place even at the art expositions some of the other nobles organized every once in a while. 

There were paintings all around donning colours of all sorts, dark and bright, dim and vibrant, sweet and cold; there were oil colours of all sorts stacked to the sides and near the easel that didn’t stand all that far from the door; rags filled with colourful spots or stained from use placed strategically around the room; paintbrushes of all forms and shapes arranged one next to each other on a small table near the easel and a few stray ones lying on the windowsill; and even some coal and other instruments for art, that Pacifica wasn’t quite as knowledgeable in, set to the side. A single decorated chair lay on the other side of the room in front of a white fabric, opposite to the easel. Pacifica noted the canvas was filled with shapes that seemed pretty random from where she was standing, though the simple chair in front of the easel – where she assumed Mabel sat while painting – was obstructing her view from the entrance of the room. 

Mabel’s hold on her hand disappeared and Pacifica watched as the brunette walked forward and placed the violets on the chair in front of the easel. She left them there for a moment while she exchanged the present canvas for a blank one. Pacifica noted it was a bigger canvas than the one before it. Once she had retrieved the white canvas, Mabel took a critical look in front of her where the white drape covered the wall and the decorated chair stood innocently in front of her. She grabbed a thin paintbrush and extended a hand in front of her while holding it, seeming to measure the room with her eyes for a few good moments. Pacifica had seen painters do that before though she had yet to quite understand why, she assumed they did it to decide where everything should be but she doubted she’d be able to ever do that herself. 

The heiress waited silently for Mabel to decide what she wanted to do and where she wanted her to sit, letting her eyes scan around the room a bit longer. After a few hums and going to move the chair several times, always returning to her original spot to check if it was what she wanted, Mabel finally seemed pleased with the arrangement. “Alright, this’ll do. Pacifica, could you please sit down here and look towards the wall opposite to you?” Mabel called out to her, bringing Pacifica’s attention back to their task instead of the closest painting in the room. With all of the colours and paintings around she wasn’t even sure where to look anymore. She noticed Mabel gesturing towards the chair and nodded compliantly. 

“Of course.” She made her way to the other side of the room, careful not to accidentally step on something or get paint on herself while on her way there. The space near the chair was bear and she sat down, smoothing her dress around her like a proper lady while Mabel returned to her original spot in front of the easel for another critical look now that her model was in place as well. She took a few moments just looking at her and Pacifica could feel the weight of her gaze on her skin as she looked where Mabel had told her to. The wall was actually filled with paintings as well and Pacifica wondered if that was intentional so the model wouldn’t get too bored while being painted. It was a good strategy if anything but Pacifica couldn’t really concentrate on them with those eyes on her. “Is this alright?” Pacifica inquired, noticing from the corners of her vision that Mabel hadn’t moved, her brows forming a small frown. 

“Just give me a moment.” The artist told her, looking as if she was gathering her thoughts about what else the painting needed. Deciding to keep quiet, Pacifica let Mabel do her work and tried concentrating on the paintings in front of her…butterflies, starry skies, views, people, balls and dancing figures in wondrous dresses, all sorts of fairy-tale like images that would make someone smile. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she looked at them while waiting. She had had portraits made before, she knew that it took a while to actually decide how to paint the model. This time she’d just let Mabel decide how she would have liked to paint her. Little clicks resounded against the floor as Mabel made her way towards her again. They ended up moving the chair a bit to the side before having Pacifica sit down again. The blonde once again flattened her skirts and her blond hair fell forward. She moved a hand to push it behind her ears and towards her back. “Would you mind if I arranged your hair a bit?” Mabel chimed in tentatively, a hand up in a hesitant gesture. 

“Go ahead.” Pacifica encouraged, shrugging a little and trying to ignore how the girl lit up at that. Soft hands reached out and Mabel leaned in to run her fingers through golden locks. She caught the stray strands of Pacifica’s golden hair and moved them away from her face on the side that faced the easel, admiring her work. She leaned back a little to look at her before reaching out again and moving some of the blond locks over Pacifica’s shoulder on the side that faced the white curtain. A stray thin strand of golden hair came a bit too far and Mabel caught it, tucking it behind Pacifica’s ear gently, the soft touch leaving a warm feeling on Pacifica’s pale skin. Perhaps she should have asked to get some water before this. Her throat suddenly felt a bit too dry. 

If Mabel noticed anything she didn’t bring it up, still caught up in her artist persona. “I was thinking you could hold the violets, but would you mind if I put some in your hair as well?” It was a pretty innocent question, but Pacifica could only hope allowing her to do so wouldn’t end up with her being a blushing mess since she was holding onto her control pretty well for now. It wasn’t as if this was that weird. It was just getting ready for the actual portrait. 

“We might need some hairclips for that.” The heiress pointed out and Mabel grinned at the indirect permission she had just gotten. Mabel figured that with the colours Pacifica was wearing she’d look gorgeous holding violets, hence why she had run to get some quickly, but now that she got a closer look Mabel was sure a few violets in Pacifica’s hair would finish the look. They would serve to soften up some of her beautiful features and compliment her skin colour while serving as only a simple decoration. The light was hitting Pacifica just right from the window to the side as well and the artist hoped the sun wouldn’t decide to play a disappearing act on them in the near future. 

“I’ll get some from my room! Just give me a moment.” Mabel assured and her shoes clicked against the floor as she made her way out of the art room. It wasn’t long before the clicks disappeared and then reappeared, steps drumming confidently against the floor. Upon her return Pacifica noted Mabel had taken the time to redo her ponytail so no brown strands of hair escaped it anymore. “Got them!” The girl declared and grabbed the violets as well as she made her way back to Pacifica. The blonde held them in her lap and watched as Mabel grabbed a violet or two every so often to put in her hair. With Pacifica’s straight golden hair the flowers didn’t hold without something to keep them in place but Mabel seemed to do a professional job at making them stay with only a few hairclips. 

Pacifica noted most were placed around her ear on the side facing the easel, but not long after Mabel started trailing a few down the length of her hair as well. Pacifica wondered why she even had so many hairclips but then again Mabel herself had incredibly long curly hair so perhaps she needed them for whenever her brown locks weren’t as tame as she would have liked them to be. A few times Mabel had to remove a few violets and change the position of others but in the end she seemed pleased with her work as she stepped back to look at Pacifica. She moved the violets in Pacifica’s lap so they would be a bit more obvious against the material of her dress and then retreated once again near her easel to examine the image.

“Alright, just one more thing.” Mabel assured, her eyes alight as the image she must have had in her mind started coming to life. She made a few quick steps to find herself in front of Pacifica and the girl found herself surprised when Mabel gently cupped her chin, making her look up and a bit more to the side facing the easel. Mabel’s hands had warmed up by then, but the temperature itself seemed to have little to do with the traces of fire the touch left on Pacifica’s skin. Blue eyes met brown and Pacifica found herself blushing under Mabel’s gaze. 

The brunette seemed focused on what she was doing so Pacifica didn’t say anything but the colour in her cheeks must have been pretty obvious because Mabel seemed to snap out of her little trance and blush herself when the realization of how close their faces were hit her. Silence seemed to overtake the room and for a while they just stared in each other’s eyes with colour in their cheeks, caught in the emotions swirling there. Pacifica wasn’t quite sure she was thinking of anything specific or that her mind was able to coherent thought as she stared into those brown eyes. There was just something about them that muddled up her thoughts. What she did know was that her heart was thundering in her chest all of a sudden and that if she leaned in just a bit more she would simultaneously ruin all of Mabel’s work till that point and probably their feeble relationship as friends as well, because if she leaned just a little closer she was sure her lips could touch hers even if for just a moment. 

Pacifica found herself frozen to the spot.

Mabel didn’t move from in front of her though, she didn’t pull away or move. She could have but she didn’t because for a moment she was just caught up in those beautiful crystal blue eyes that were staring back at her and because the blush on Pacifica’s cheeks was positively delightful. Mabel could tell she was the cause of it and for a moment she thought that maybe she shouldn’t pull away and just stay there for a bit more to enjoy how beautiful the girl before her looked with the light surrounding her like an aura and the violets hanging from her hair as if to bow down to her beauty. Her eyes strayed momentarily to the girl’s lips and for just a second she almost leaned in before realizing exactly where her mind was going…Mabel pulled herself away almost brusquely and if Pacifica hadn’t been frozen to the spot she might have jumped at the sudden distance. 

The brunette stiffly made her way back to her easel, not daring to meet the girl’s eyes as she tried to ignore what had just happened. Pacifica’s lips might have seemed warm and inviting and sweet and she might have just wanted to kiss them but that didn’t mean she should! On the contrary, she shouldn’t and she wouldn’t! Just because a gnome looked cute and harmless didn’t’ mean you went to pet it and get your hand and skin chewed off or, worse, get yourself kidnapped! Plus, Pacifica was Dipper’s bride! She couldn’t do that to her brother! Nope, nope, she needed to get a grip of herself because this wasn’t happening and she was very stubborn in ignoring the little moment that had just passed between her and the girl…perhaps not having water in her art room was a bad idea because her throat suddenly felt parched. 

Mabel took a deep breath, and hoped she wasn’t too obvious about it, before turning around. Pacifica’s blush seemed to have disappeared at this point though if Mabel could have seen into her mind she would have known that the girl was very far from the calm exterior she put up. It was almost a bit disappointing to see the girl didn’t look as affected as she was but it did help her gather her own nerves if only a bit. She could be professional about this. That had only been a moment of…she wasn’t sure what exactly it had been but it had passed. It had passed and she had to concentrate on painting now or they’d never get started, not to mention finish anything that day. Mabel grabbed the thin brush she had first picked up that day and lifted it up, extending a hand in front of her once again to measure the distance and everything she’d be capturing in the portrait. 

However, she looked at it they were ready to start now…and however she looked at it her heart refused to slow down its pace. “Well, I think we can start now.” She said, adding some of her usual cheerfulness to her voice. Pacifica wondered if perhaps she was the only one who had been thinking silly things during what had just happened or if Mabel was just better at hiding her emotions than she would have thought. Whatever it was it calmed her down and tied her stomach in knots at the same time as she nodded towards the artist, just the slightest nod to give her approval. Briefly, she wondered if Mabel could hear her heartbeat from where she was sitting. Pacifica was pretty sure she wasn’t blushing anymore but her emotions were still swirling about in her chest as she averted her eyes from the brown haired girl and towards the paintings on the opposite wall. 

The Pines woman sat down in front of her canvas and was grateful for the large quantity of ochre she had made that morning for sketches. She started working on the portrait, albeit the start was slow and Mabel found herself caught up in Pacifica’s beauty several times before she shook herself out of her thoughts and concentrated on what she had in front of her. Yes, Pacifica was beautiful and sweet and Mabel could have stared for hours but it would have been much better if she just did the portrait so she could have something to look at even when Pacifica wasn’t there, wouldn’t it? With a new feeling of determination she brought her paintbrush onto the canvas and watched as the colour stuck to it, forming the image before her expertly with practiced movements. Occasionally she stopped to take a good look at her model as to get every detail down from the curves of her body to the soft lining of her cheek and the ruffles of her dress. The sun had been kind and kept itself out of clouds so the light was still pouring through the windows, giving Pacifica a white aura fit for an angel. She still looked very much like one, a very gentle and sweet one if not a bit too mysterious to be touched or attained. But Mabel had touched her earlier while arranging her hair and cupping her chin. Mabel knew she was warm and sweet and had a pretty voice that spoke in fancy words…

As time passed Pacifica kept her eyes on the paintings on the opposite wall. Her heartbeat calmed down with the silence in the room. Every so often Mabel would hum to herself as she painted and Pacifica made a note of the songs she hummed even if at times she was sure they were just random little hums of inexistent tunes. It would have been relaxing if not for having to pose, but as it was she was distracted enough by Mabel’s voice and the paintings around her as to not feel too uncomfortable. She was used to posing so that helped as well. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but she didn’t really care either as Mabel continued to paint her. Mabel also lost track of time soon enough, more concentrated on the canvas in front of her and on her beautiful model. The only indicator that time did pass was the light outside that showed afternoon approaching. Neither girl seemed to care or even bring up lunch though, caught up in the almost dream-like and almost delicate ambience of the room. 

It was when steps resounded outside of the door that Mabel stopped her paintbrush short from reaching her canvas. Footsteps meant someone was there and the only person in the house was Dipper to her knowledge. The footsteps sounded a bit frantic and rushed so she could only assume that was definitely him realizing he had woken up terribly late, as he would always do in these kinds of situations. Nothing seemed odd about it, if anything it was just a bit frustrating by cutting through the silence of the room and her concentration all of a sudden. She also realized that if Dipper was awake it meant she should probably tell him about Pacifica. It was around then that her model moved just an inch and Mabel jumped from her chair as if she had just been burned. “No!” she exclaimed, eliciting a wide-eyed look from the blonde girl who seemed about to get up from her chair. “You can’t move yet, I’m not finished!” she insisted and the girl settled back down, looking a bit amused at the brunette’s reaction. She seemed about ready to say something when another voice broke through the room from the other side of the door.

“Mabes, are you home?” the voice was definitely Dipper’s, Mabel would recognize it anywhere. He didn’t sound out of breath or anything, it sounded pretty clear actually. Not surprising, he may have looked a bit lanky to some people but Dipper faced the supernatural daily, he was quite in shape despite what others might have thought. Sure, Mabel definitely had more strength but both of them were pretty athletic if only because they always got themselves in trouble – though Dipper was the one who got caught in near-death situations most of the time.

“A bit busy now, bro-bro!” Mabel told him and got up from where she was sitting down. “By the way, Pacifica came over for you to practice your vows together! I’m stealing her for a portrait though so you’ll have to wait till I finish the sketch!” she yelled back through the door, not bothering to go and open it, instead heading for Pacifica who was rolling her eyes at her with a smile as Mabel leaned over to once again arrange some of the violets in their places and make sure everything was exactly in the same place as before. She placed two fingers underneath Pacifica’s chin to make her look up a bit, but made sure not to linger in fear of a repeat of last time – one that she wouldn’t be able to pull away from. 

“She did?” The voice sounded surprised and Mabel expected that. Even she hadn’t expected Pacifica to come over that day after all, though she could definitely say she was happy she had. What surprised her more were the following words. “I need to go help great uncle Ford with something, it shouldn’t take long. I’ll see you when I get back.” For a moment Mabel just blinked. Did Ford insist on Dipper coming with him on the expedition for the day? It wouldn’t have been too weird since Dipper often accompanied him or followed him on them but last time she had checked Dipper was banned from going after the supernatural and other such things. Was there an emergency that Ford couldn’t handle by himself so he had to ask for Dipper’s help? Was she missing something? Wait, did he mean to just leave without even greeting Pacifica?

“What do you mean you’re going out?” her words were loud to go carry through the door and a bit startled and she moved away from Pacifica and towards the door of her art room, but by then she already heard steps down the stairs. By the time she reached for the door she heard the slamming of the front door. “And he’s gone!” she declared, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Of course, he wouldn’t wait for her to stop him. You’d think that her brother would at least come to see his bride to be when he heard she was there, but nope, he ran right out the door and into the unknown with grunkle Ford instead. The lecture he’d give that boy when she caught him…

“It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Plus, it will give us more time for the painting, won’t it?” Pacifica said and her smooth voice soothed some of Mabel’s anger, though her pout didn’t leave her lips as she turned around. Pacifica had to keep from giggling at the girl’s exaggerated pout. The earlier exchange had been pretty quick, hurried really, and Pacifica was a bit surprised by it if truth be told. She had expected that when Dipper heard she was there he’d at least be polite enough to come greet her because for all of his misgivings Dipper had been the image of politeness to her the day before. For him to run off like that was surprising, impolite and even a bit insulting, all the more when he had just been told she was there! However, Mabel took it as such a normal thing that Pacifica could only assume this happened on a regular basis so it wasn’t necessarily because she was there that he acted like that. And perhaps a small part of her was glad Dipper had run away. She didn’t feel like practicing her vows. She knew them and that should have been good enough. She was sure Dipper would understand and they wouldn’t take long to actually go over their vows when he returned. For now though she would have preferred that she and Mabel continued what they had started. She was excited to see how the girl that was literally a rainbow incarnate would paint her.

“That’s true.” Mabel agreed though she was already planning the talking to she’d give Dipper when she saw him next time. Her pout seemed to disappear soon enough as she settled herself back at her easel. She ended up having to come over to Pacifica again to move one of the violets before deciding that it was exactly as before. Pacifica didn’t see the difference but Mabel must have, judging by the soft frown on her features. The room returned to soft hums, silence and the occasional small exchange between the two girls. They made a few breaks when Pacifica grew tired and the blonde was happy to be able to stretch her legs for a bit during those times. They actually started to talk during the breaks and found that they liked speaking to each other. Mabel was amusing and Pacifica was much livelier than one would first give her credit for. They spoke about dances, socials, girls, boys, random rumours going around. It was idle chatter but it felt nice to be able to just enjoy those simple moments. 

Mabel kept Pacifica on a tight schedule though and as soon as the break was over she’d come over to settle Pacifica down exactly as she had been before, to carefully move any stray violets back in place and to make sure not even a strand of hair was out of place. She also insisted on not showing Pacifica what she had painted till they finished for the day, which gained her a roll of Pacifica’s pretty eyes. Mabel was set on it though so Pacifica would just have to wait. It had gotten quite late because Mabel had had to turn on the lights in the room to continue her painting. She assured Pacifica that in the painting she’d use a similar lighting to the one that they had that afternoon though as she insisted it gave Pacifica a more ethereal, almost ephemeral, air. It made her model blush but this time that little detail escaped her as she continued painting. It was a while later that Pacifica brought up how late it was during a break and it was decided that she’d just stay over for the night. Her parents didn’t really know where she was anyhow and she did say she’d be staying over at a friend. It was just a different friend was all! They didn’t have to find out and Mabel was sure her family would be delighted to have Pacifica over. After all, she would be part of it soon. 

They really must have lost track of time and themselves because it took grunkle Stan coming back from work and calling Mabel and Dipper to dinner for them to realize the hour. It was around the same time that both of the girl’s stomachs growled. Both Pacifica and Mabel burst out into giggles at that, realizing they had just spent the whole day in each other’s company and it had been quite enjoyable, so much that they had forgotten to eat. Perhaps they had gotten just a bit carried away with that portrait but Mabel could at least say it was turning out fabulously! How couldn’t it with someone like Pacifica being the centrepiece for it and Mabel being the artist? 

Getting up from where she was sitting in a flurry of white and violet, Mabel headed for the door to her art room so she could go answer her grunkle. She opened it and dashed towards the stairs, managing to catch the old man just before he headed back into the kitchen. “Grunkle Stan, you’ll never guess who’s here!” She said excitedly, which seemed to be more than enough to attract Stan’s attention and some of his suspicion as well from what Mabel could see from his expression and furrowed brows. He didn’t seem in the mood to actually wonder who it was but by how excited his grandniece was he could only hope it was some friend of hers and not some random supernatural creature like Dipper and Ford would usually bring in for a reason or another. Out of the three of them Mabel was the most harmless with these questions. 

“Are your friends over again, sweetie?” He asked her gently, wondering if there was enough food or if he’d have to make more. He didn’t mind but he didn’t feel like cooking more at this point since he had literally just finished.

“Close!” Mabel assured him with one of her brightest grins before giving him the answer. “Pacifica came over!” she cleared up and quickly added her questions right after before her grunkle’s mood went sour. “Can she stay the night here? Please, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel made her best puppy eyes at her grunkle from where she was standing on the stairs and even from there she was sure they’d have the desired effect.

For a moment Stan wasn’t sure he had heard Mabel right. Why would Pacifica of all people be there? The rehearsal had been a disaster and he couldn’t imagine her parents letting her stay over or even come there with how everything had gone. Hell, he couldn’t imagine the Northwests wanting their girl near a boy with how snobbish they were but, surely enough, the blonde girl made her way over, violets in her hair as she appeared on the stairs. Pacifica smiled politely at him but Stan cut her off before she could even begin her courtesies. “Your folks don’t know you’re here, do they?” That seemed to bring Pacifica out of her good mood and she felt put on the spot, if not a bit guilty. Suddenly staying over didn’t seem like such a good idea with how this man was looking at her so accusingly. She didn’t know Stan or how he acted so she couldn’t know what he’d do. If Stan told her parents that she was there they wouldn’t be pleased with her. Stan seemed to know this too. “Look what, you can stay but if your parents ask you weren’t here.” Pacifica was surprised by his words and didn’t think she had ever heard something more relieving in her life. She would have thought the man would tell on her but it seemed he couldn’t stand against Mabel’s puppy eyes…in truth, Stanley also knew that if she told on the girl not only would she get her in trouble but it’d get them in trouble. 

The Northwests wouldn’t blame their perfect daughter as much as they’d blame others and Stanley wasn’t stupid enough to fall into that trap. On the contrary, Stanley was quite socially adept even if he was just a conman. Plus, he didn’t want to out the girl, not just because of Mabel’s puppy eyes but because he could see the girl didn’t want to go home from the expression that had crossed her face when he saw through her lie. She didn’t want to go home and Stanley knew best how that felt. He wouldn’t put a child through going through what he had. He still remembered how it was to go home and have to face his father every day as a boy, it was never pleasant. Surely Pacifica didn’t have the same problems and she lived in luxury but she seemed just as reluctant as he had back then and that was more than enough to make him feel protective of the girl. She wasn’t a bad kid. And she would be part of the family, at least this way she’d be on their side. 

“Of course, sir.” Pacifica agreed readily, though she was still a little too surprised to smile at the man. She was happy, just still in a bit of a shock, but Mabel smiled wide enough to light up the whole room for both of them, giving her a knowing look. Pacifica could tell by her eyes that her look was simply overtaken with praise for her grunkle. They must have been really close and Pacifica thought she could see why. He seemed like a harsh man and had a brusque way of speaking, he didn’t seem too smart at a first glance but from what Mabel had told her, Stan was kind, surprisingly smart and sometimes a bit silly, he cared about them a lot and would be the first to welcome her into the family with open arms. She trusted Mabel told her the truth.

“Where’s your brother?” Stanley asked Mabel and the girl’s smile turned into a pout. Stanley knew from just that that this might not be good. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to hear though because most things couldn’t faze him at this point, but somehow the twins always managed to find something if his brother didn’t find it first. They just had that effect of shocking people out of their wits daily one way or another.

“He went out with grunkle Ford this afternoon. Haven’t they returned yet?” Mabel would have thought that by then it was late enough for them to be back but she was used to them not being back for days at a time. They just ended up going who knows where and camping out or coming back in the middle of the night and almost giving poor Stanley a heart attack when tripping over something while trying to be silent. It never helped that the family was generally jumpy after dealing with so many supernatural problems and that all of them were very good with weapons, it was chaos waiting to happen, even if they managed just fine most of the time there were a few close calls. Then again, since Dipper hadn’t come over to them Mabel supposed she had somewhat known that they weren’t back yet. 

“He what!?” The exclamation and anger that came with that was alarming. It was surely directed towards Dipper and Ford but Mabel and Pacifica cringed at it all the same. “When I get a hold of that kid…” Mabel could tell that he wasn’t too pleased with the news. How could he when he had worked so hard to keep Dipper out of trouble and from the supernatural in the last time? It wasn’t even Dipper he was really mad at right then as much as he was mad at Ford. When that man returned Stanley would be sure to give him a piece of his mind. It was one thing for Dipper to go out doing things by himself and going against their decisions, it was a completely different matter for Ford to go back on his word and involve Dipper with the supernatural all over again! If Ford was taking Dipper out on those kinds of expeditions again then he had better have a good reason for it. Even with an emergency Stanley was pretty intent on making Ford sleep on the couch for this. Taking Dipper on another expedition after he saw what had happened the day before? He knew the man was crazy but you’d think even he’d have enough logic to know this would make things worse!

Some grumbling and Mabel helping Pacifica take off the flowers in her hair later, they were all settled down around the table for dinner. Since Dipper was missing there was no need to cook anything extra. The atmosphere was warm and surprisingly friendly, and Pacifica found that for all of the man’s eccentricities he was actually pleasant once you got used to him. Sure, a bit weird and ill-mannered but with good intentions and a soft-spot for his grandniece. He joked about and grinned and even made sure to include Pacifica in their conversations as much as possible, trying to coax her out of her shell. She wasn’t used to talking at the table but here it was a normal thing and both Mabel and Stanley played with their food which turned out to be pretty funny. Stanley spoke pretty harshly of his life-partner and of Dipper but Pacifica could tell it was because he was worried and that he really cared for both of them. He was just mad because they seemed to have gone out somewhere without telling him and somehow that carried a lot of weight here even if Pacifica wasn’t sure why. Dinner was pleasant and actually fun for once, filled with laughter and conversation instead of silence. 

Pacifica found she liked this change of pace. 

She felt warm and welcome. 

Stanley assured them he would take care of the dishes so they could head back to whatever they were doing before and enjoy themselves. With that in mind Mabel led Pacifica back into the art room. They were done for the day but she hadn’t gotten to actually show the girl how the portrait was turning out. Pacifica had probably gotten a look at it while trailing after her earlier but Mabel still wanted to see her expression when she saw it! Truly it wasn’t much yet but it was beautiful even so and Pacifica revelled in the image as she stared at every little stroke the brush had made in Mabel’s talented hands, some slim, some wide…it wasn’t nearly as colourful as Mabel’s other paintings, not for lack of want but because it was still in the beginning stages. Even so, this sketch had a certain beauty to it as it was. It was elegant and well made. Pacifica could recognize herself in it and see the contours of her face and of her body, where the chair should have been, her dress…it was beautiful in a way she hadn’t seen before and she stared at it for a long time without any disruption. Anyone else might have taken her away or snapped her out of it but Mabel let her admire it to her heart’s content. After she had stared enough, or at least when she felt herself drawn back to reality, she looked to the side to see Mabel smiling at her. It was happy but it wasn’t her usual grin, it was something content and sweet and warm. Pacifica wasn’t sure what it was but she liked it. It was a moment of calm and happiness and it stuck around her heart as a protective blanket even as Mabel gently led her outside of the art room, turning off the light before closing the door behind them. 

They decided that while there was a guest room Pacifica could sleep in Mabel’s room, if only because both girls still wanted to talk, plus she could just change rooms later if she wished, but for now she yearned for the girl’s warmth and sweet smile, for her happy hums and lively gestures. She was borrowed a nightgown and both of them got changed for the night, dresses set aside, before making themselves comfortable in Mabel’s room. Her chambers were as colourful as her personality with all kinds of things to them and Pacifica idly noted the wind chimes near her window with a smile as they settled down. There wasn’t much light coming from outside that night though the moon was big in the sky. The light inside the room was warm though and Mabel herself radiated warmth as she settled down on the bed next to Pacifica. They talked about anything and everything as if they had known each other for years instead of just two days, joking and smiling with eyes alight with happiness.

It was getting really late…

“Does Dipper always do this?” the heiress ventured to ask at one point in their discussion, playing with her hair as she sat on Mabel’s bed, leaning against the headboard. It was understandable she was asking since they were to be married and she hoped Mabel didn’t mind her inquiring about her twin. It was a bit worrying when one thought about it and she hoped that the topic wouldn’t dampen the mood in the room. Even so, Dipper had literally left at about afternoon and now it was probably near midnight but he had yet to return. It didn’t seem like something normal people would do… 

“Hmm?” Mabel asked from where she was combing through her hair not too far away from her. “Oh, don’t worry about him! He’ll be back sooner or later!” She assured cheerily, not wishing to dampen the girl’s mood. Even so, she completely avoided the actual question because…Well, yes. Dipper did that. It was normal in their family for this to happen in truth, but they weren’t really the most normal of families when it came down to it. Dipper and Ford always did such things and it was concerning but Mabel and Stanley were so used to it they didn’t question it anymore unless there was an emergency and they had to intervene. It was like other people would react when their family went to get some bread from the shop across the street, only that their family went to retrieve ancient supernatural remains from the forest or do treaties between creatures in the nearby mountains…it was hard to explain to strangers without getting strange looks. Anyway, as it was now, nothing unusual was happening to Mabel’s knowledge for her or grunkle Stan to worry or search for their twins. She was sure they’d come back soon and Mabel doubted Ford would let Dipper attend another supernatural outing after this. It was still strange he would let him go on this one…

“I see.” Pacifica answered carefully, but she seemed a bit distraught by the thought. And perhaps it wasn’t just that thought but many others as well, of the marriage, of the rehearsal, of that moment she had had with Mabel earlier in the art room and all of the fun they had had that day…of how close they had gotten in such a short time. She didn’t want to give everything up to get married. She loved the idea of a wedding but she hadn’t wanted it to be like this. Now that the day was slowing down and things were unwinding, every thought she had managed to keep away while in the bright art room came crashing back down onto her without any warning and she wasn’t sure how to react to it. She wasn’t alone in her room as to just let the mood pass like usual and all sorts of thoughts were swirling in her mind. They made her melancholic. There was a bit of silence and it was comfortable. Perhaps that’s why she spoke or perhaps she just wanted someone to listen and wanted to see if Mabel was the right person. She wasn’t sure but she spoke. 

“Since I was a child, I've...” And somehow the words came a bit hard at the beginning even when avoiding Mabel’s eyes as to fidget with her hair instead. It was probably silly for her even to talk about this but it felt somewhat right to tell Mabel. Mabel was understanding and nice and had been only kind to her ever since they had met…she felt close to Mabel. “I've dreamt of my wedding day.” She admitted, giving a small shrug as if that would serve to take away from the weight of what she said. “I always hoped to find someone I was deeply in love with.” She admitted and sneaked just a small glance at the girl in front of her and her big brown eyes, voice soft and filled with emotion. “Someone to spend the rest of my life with.” And the softness disappeared from her mind because other thoughts crashed down onto her fantasy, ripping it apart and destroying it. “Silly, isn't it?” And perhaps there was a bitterness to that tone but she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t meant for it to be there since it was Mabel she was talking to but it was still there. Dipper was nice. He was sweet, caring, he didn’t look half bad, his family was pleasant and Pacifica was sure he’d make a loving husband if he tried but, in the end, Dipper wasn’t that close to her and she didn’t like him that way. It was arranged and that made her sour for the whole thing.

If anything, she felt much closer to Mabel but Mabel wasn’t the one she was to marry. 

Mabel herself seemed to be a bit dazed, slightly taken aback by this moment of honesty from Pacifica. She stared as she spoke, taking in every little sweet word that left her lips as if entranced at how lovingly gentle the girl could be in her thoughts about marriage. Despite her own trance, she didn’t falter in her words even one bit once the girl was done speaking. “No, it’s not silly at all! On the contrary, dreaming is good! I’ve also thought about mine ever since I was a little girl!” She declared proudly because, frankly, she knew she needed to avert the discussion. If she continued it she’d have to reassure Pacifica that she’d have a loving husband and everything and while she could definitely talk well of Dipper, Mabel didn’t want to right then. That wasn’t what Pacifica needed. Dipper was lovely but Pacifica wasn’t searching for a reinforcement of what was to happen or that things would be alright, she was searching for comfort, for a distraction and something to validate her feelings. “Actually,” Mabel grinned as she got an idea and jumped off of the bed, making it bounce a bit as the weight shifted underneath. Pacifica watched as Mabel searched through a drawer and pulled out a big agenda before returning to sit next to Pacifica, their arms touching as she leaned in close to show her what she had. “I have a scrapbook filled with things I want for my wedding.” 

Pacifica blinked, surprised. She had…not expected that. She hadn’t but she did find it wonderful that Mabel was willing to share such thoughts with her. Before she knew it Mabel was speaking about what she wanted for her wedding and different things she wanted to do, all while going through the scrapbook with Pacifica. She had plans and lists, she had little comments and drawings, fabric pieces stuck inside and photos of dresses…It was actually very endearing and they got caught up in speaking about wedding rings and dresses without much thought. They got caught up in speaking about guests and dances and everything that could happen and for once Pacifica found herself happy to be talking about the wedding as they went over imaginary situations and Mabel sneaked in a teasing or playful comment every so often, sometimes making Pacifica flush. The smile never left her face during that discussion. “It’s just a shame I didn’t get to practice my vows with Dipper. I wouldn’t want the next rehearsal to be a repeat of yesterday.” And really the thought made her actually scrunch up her face in distaste. A repeat of that would be horrible. It had truly been a disaster. She thought the next time would be fine but actually practicing her vows with someone might have settled her nerves better. 

Mabel seemed to think that over for a moment without offering an answer. Pacifica wondered if mentioning the rehearsal might have not been a good idea…

“Wait right here!” 

The bed shifted again as Mabel’s weight disappeared from it, leaving the scrapbook in Pacifica’s lap. She wondered what the girl was doing now but was pretty sure she’d find out soon enough. She opened the scrapbook again and started looking through everything in it with a soft smile on her face. It was a nice thing to have but she had never thought about making such a thing herself. She almost regretted it, a scrapbook seemed like it would be fun to do. Then again, when would she have the time? It wasn’t as if her parents would approve of such ‘creative’ activities. Her mood was starting to go down, but the door signalled Mabel’s return and she pushed her thoughts away. Mabel had returned with several objects and…was that alcohol? Pacifica stared as the door closed after the brunette. She wanted to ask what was going on but was a bit dumbstruck as she watched the girl put everything she was carrying on her desk before removing everything else from it. The desk was now almost bear except for two glasses, a bottle of what Pacifica assumed was wine, and two candles. “Uh, Mabel?” Pacifica asked her, not sure what the girl was planning. Mabel locked the door and turned towards her with a grin. “What are you doing?” Pacifica finally made out, blinking in confusion. 

“If Dipper’s not here to practice with you, then I will!” She declared proudly, putting her hands on her hips. She seemed very sure of her idea as her brown eyes settled upon the blonde girl on her bed.

Pacifica needed a moment for that to get across to her. “What?” 

Mabel shrugged. “We’re twins anyway, it won’t be that different.” Pacifica got the feeling Mabel was missing the point here. “This way you get to practice and won’t be so nervous at the next rehearsal! I got us candles, glasses and wine – don’t worry, grunkle Stan won’t notice – so all that we need now is a ring.” Quickly, she made her way to the other side of the room and retrieved a big jewellery box which she then presented to Pacifica. “Choose one.” She prompted, opening the lid.

Pacifica was still a bit baffled by the turn of events but Mabel did have a point. Plus, how could she refuse her when she was smiling like that? Pacifica smiled back as Mabel showed her the jewellery box, finding her smile contagious. There were many rings inside along with necklaces and bracelets. She picked the first one she laid eyes on. It was a silver ring with a violet stone. After all, violet was the colour of the day. “I think this one will do nicely.” She decided not even a moment later, her smile sweet as she showed the piece of jewellery to her ‘bride’.

Still smiling, Mabel placed the jewellery box back in its place after selecting another ring which was similar in colour. They needed two rings after all. Pacifica placed the wedding scrapbook on the bedside table carefully and was about to get up when Mabel offered her a hand. “If I may, my lady.” She said and did an exaggerated bow that had Pacifica bursting into laughter. Hopefully the walls were thick enough so Mabel’s grunkle wouldn’t hear them.

“Why, of course, my lady.” She offered back sweetly and took her hand in her own. It was warm and Mabel’s skin was soft against hers. She got up from her spot on the bed and they both moved towards the desk, leaving the rings there near the other items. Mabel pulled them back enough so there was space between them and the desk. They turned towards each other and neither was able to keep the smile off of her lips at what they were about to do. 

It was kind of silly.

Mabel lifted her right hand and cleared her throat before starting. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” She started, trying to seem serious but failed by the cheer in her voice and the large smile on her lips. Pacifica wasn’t doing better herself, having to hold back happy giggles as she took Mabel’s offered hand. It felt natural to take her hand and by then her fingers instinctively curled around her hand. After Pacifica’s hand had gingerly taken hers, Mabel gave it a soft squeeze with her own. They took three steps and arrived in front of the desk. Mabel let go of Pacifica’s hand long enough to open the bottle of wine and the smell drifted through the air as she poured wine in both glasses. Once she was happy, she continued. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” She took the glass in her hand as she said so, her eyes settled upon crystal blue. She put the glass back down and instead took the candle. It wasn’t lit but perhaps it was better to leave them so, firstly because they weren’t about to interrupt the ‘ceremony’ to get matches and secondly because it would be a fire hazard and there had been more than enough wine stains at the rehearsal the other day. They didn’t need that over their white nightgowns! “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.” Mabel placed the candle back down and, finally, took the ring she had left there. “With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” Pacifica smiled and offered her hand. Mabel gently took it and slipped on the ring which fit perfectly on the girl’s dainty fingers even if the stone was a bit big.

Mabel grinned and for a moment they just looked at each other like that, content with how this was going.

Pacifica lifted her right hand up. She took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. Mabel waited. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Her voice was soft and gentle, perhaps a bit nervous. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” Her eyes stayed on Mabel’s brown ones as she continued, admiring how alight they were and how pretty she looked in white. Mabel always looked pretty but white suddenly seemed to suit her very well, even if it was just a nightgown. Pacifica lifted one of the candles though she almost dropped it on accident. She flushed in embarrassment and Mabel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She took another breath, grasped the candle and continued with her vows. “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.” The candle was then placed down, almost rolling off of the desk, and Pacifica grabbed the other ring, one with a dark purple stone that Mabel had selected. “With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” She finished, eyes once again on brown pools. Her hand was shaking as she placed it on Mabel’s finger but she didn’t drop it which was a good sign. 

Pacifica sighed in relief as they were done and Mabel grinned. “And now we drink!” She reminded and Pacifica wasn’t sure what she was speaking of for a second. Then she smiled and laughed as Mabel handed her one of the glasses of wine. They both took a few sips of the wine, still smiling when they were done. “That was pretty good but you were still a bit nervous. Want to try again?” Mabel asked, smiling kindly as she settled her glass down. 

Pacifica nodded with a smile. “That would help.” She agreed, placing her own glass down. Mabel refilled them.

They moved away three steps…

This routine continued for a few more tries until Pacifica seemed to get the hang of it and her nerves seemed to start dissipating. It was going well…the wine must have had something to do with it as well because it was disappearing quite fast while the girls turned into a giggling mess and started stumbling through their vows somewhere on the third or fourth try. Admittedly, Mabel seemed a bit worse off than Pacifica did but the blonde wasn’t that far from her friend. Somehow things seemed very funny, their vows suddenly sounded a bit weird and perhaps the room might have been just a bit hazier than they remembered. Pacifica wasn’t sure how many glasses of wine they had had but she was sure that they had gone through more than half of the bottle…

“You know what we haven’t done?” Mabel said, seeming a bit dizzy, her brows furrowed in concentration as she looked at her hand where Pacifica had once again placed the purple ring just a moment ago. She seemed to be thinking hard about something but Pacifica could only think of how cute she looked with her nose scrunched up as she tried to find the words she wanted to say. The haze of the wine must have made it a bit harder to think clearly….

“Hmm?” The heiress made a hum of inquiry in return, blinking away some of the haze in front of her. She felt as if she should be giggling but she wasn’t sure what was funny. Then again almost everything seemed funny from their steps to their vows to the way they started mocking the pastor at one point during this ‘rehearsal’. Waiting for the answer she let her eyes trail the other girl. Mabel was really pretty…and Pacifica had slipped up and said that several times by then somehow, earning sweet compliments or nonsense in return depending on what Mabel felt like and how much wine she had had by that point. Pacifica wasn’t sure when they had gotten so much wine in their systems but it had happened or perhaps neither of them was good with drinking. She wasn’t sure which but she was sure they were both a bit tipsy. No, not drunk…just tipsy. Very tipsy was all! 

Nothing wrong with that…

“Kissing!” Mabel declared suddenly, her eyes seemed clear for a moment as the thought was suddenly very obvious to her. It was Pacifica’s turn to furrow her brows at Mabel

“Kissing?” 

Weddings had those, right? 

And they were rehearsing a wedding…

“Yes, you can’t rehearse a wedding without kissing.” Mabel said, dragging her words almost like a drawn out whine. “It goes ‘you may now kiss the bride’.” She pointed out, trying to make her voice deeper and failing. Pacifica giggled at that and barely stopped herself from turning into a laughing mess since she wasn’t sure what even was that funny. Mabel seemed to pay her no mind as she continued, Pacifica’s reaction only making her feel more confident. Smiling was good so surely she was doing this right! “Since we exchanged rings, I should now be allowed to kiss the bride.” She pointed out confidently and Pacifica just barely got a hold of her giggles. 

Well, Mabel did have a point. They were rehearsing a wedding after all, and at a wedding the bride got to kiss her partner once they had exchanged rings. They had already done their vows and exchanged rings several times, but hadn’t kissed. If anything they had to make up for the times they hadn’t! Smiling still, she took a step closer and wound up her hands around Mabel’s slim shoulders, leaning a bit against her and almost sending the both of them falling from the unexpected movement. They both giggled before their eyes met and Mabel’s hands settled on Pacifica’s waist to steady her. “You may now kiss the bride.” Pacifica resounded almost gently because…well, Mabel made a cute bride. And if this cute bride wanted to kiss her ‘bride’ then who was Pacifica to say no? Their breaths mingled for a moment and Mabel seemed to forget how kissing went for that moment. She then leaned in and pressed her lips against hers momentarily. It was a sweet kiss but more so a peck as Pacifica pulled away not long after with inquiry in her crystal blue eyes. “Like that?” she asked, feeling more dazed than before. Strange, she was sure she hadn’t drank more wine but the surroundings seemed hazier all of a sudden and her skin felt warmer.

Maybe she had had too much wine beforehand…

Mabel pulled her closer by the waist and made a sound of disapproval that had Pacifica blinking. “No, you need to let me kiss you well!” The brunette chastised with a pout. “If not the crowd can’t cheer and stuff. A kiss, a kiss.” She pointed out as if that would make things clear and explain how Pacifica was to do things because her mind told her that was the best explanation…somehow it seemed to forget how an explanation usually contained more than the word it was explaining but it didn’t matter, surely she could just show the girl. 

Pacifica furrowed her brows, not quite sure what Mabel meant but nodded. They tried again and this time it lasted longer and felt sweeter as they lingered and pulled each other closer. It lasted for a bit and perhaps for too long because Pacifica was out of breath by the end of it. Mabel told her she had to breathe through her nose, common knowledge she insisted, and they tried again. Even so…somehow they decided it wasn’t quite ‘right’– they both agreed on this and they were sure they weren't mistaken – so more kisses were exchanged as to get it right. Sometimes they’d bump their noses and end up giggling while other times they would stumble a bit and have to catch their balance again when one of them got too eager in their kissing game. It didn’t count too much to either of them as they stole little kisses from each other, soft and sweet and tasting of wine. Somewhere along the way Pacifica ended up having to break the kiss, yawning, and Mabel soon followed suit with a yawn of her own. 

It was late.

They both giggled as if their yawns had been the most amusing part of their night before finally deciding that was enough practice for the day. Perhaps tomorrow they could figure more out but for now ‘sleepy times’ sounded very good to both girls as they turned off the lights and retired under the blankets. Mabel fluffed up the pillows momentarily and they both cuddled up close under the heavy covers. Sleep was starting to weight down on both of them heavily and Pacifica soon found herself about to drift off to sleep. She closed her eyes and felt something on her lips which made her open her eyes. Mabel pulled back with a smile. 

“Good night.” She wished Pacifica and closed her brown eyes. Pacifica couldn’t quite see her well in the darkness and the world seemed to be spinning still, whether from the wine or from the kisses she couldn’t tell. Carefully, she leaned in and placed another kiss on Mabel’s lips before settling down curled up against her. 

“Good night, Mabel.” 

It had been a good day…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got out of hand, I have absolutely no excuse, it's a monster chapter and it's all Mabifica. 
> 
> So uhm, enjoy? I tried my best so I hope you like it even if I know most are probably reading this for Billdip. Trust me that's what I want to write as well but I want to have Mabifica in this too and the living side...plus, this turned out cute and I kind of like it so I can only hope you enjoy the fluff. 
> 
> *throws some glitter* Have fun reading~ Comments are always welcome and I would apologize for the length but since you are readers I think that should make you happy? So yeah, have fun .w.
> 
> As a note: the next chapter shall be from the living side again and afterwards I can finally get back to our favourite psychopathic, nihilistic Demon and our cute nerd!
> 
> Edit cause I forget things: I read this on tumblr so perhaps it's not right but supposedly females who were bisexual or lesbians would give violets to each other in the past so that's where the whole thing with violets came. Plus, it's a nice colour. 
> 
> Also, I would like to thank my dear friend Rii, who puts up with me whenever I have to write a chapter - it involves a lot of complaining, whining and me being a baby, I don't know how she puts up with me but I greatly appreciate her - and who made me fanart! 
> 
> FANART! (Sorry, I'm really excited, I almost died of happiness when I saw it so allow me to attach a link)
> 
> It's fanart of Dipper and Pacifica for the 4th chapter 'Vows to the Dead' 
> 
> http://hazenheim.tumblr.com/post/136519955274/they-really-did-look-as-if-they-were-headed-for-a
> 
> As you can see, she's a very talented cutie who took the time to make me a thing for this fanfiction and makes me quite happy, she has a nice blog and everything! And, obviously, I like gushing over friends dear to me so you might want to expect that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This work has been inspired by the lovely movie Corpse Bride by Tim Burton and an image I saw a long while ago of Bill and Dipper in this AU which has been attached as a parent work to this fic. I hope you all enjoy the story!


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